Some Love is Found Everywhere
by archergwen
Summary: The sun and the moon are tied together no matter where you go. ... Zutara AUs that don't fit in the "Jasmine and Souchong" universe.
1. The One Where She Walked into a Drug Den

**The One Where I Accidentally Walked into Your Drug Den**

Muttering angrily, Katara opened the door at the end of the alleyway.

"This had better be a damn fine dance club-"

It was not, in fact, a dance club. Katara had opened the door to a room lit only by the lamp on the desk with a few bookshelves about the walls. A young man sat behind the desk, pen in hand, his gold eyes narrowed at her.

"What are you doing here?" he growled.

"I- I was looking for- My brother told me about this dance club at the end of an alleyway, and this one matched the directions he gave me, but I mean, I might have gotten lost."

The man stood up, and Katara swallowed thickly. The dim light made him all the more menacing. Now, reaching his full height, Katara could see the taunt muscles straining against the shirt and suit jacket. She inadvertently bit her lip, before the lamp flickered, throwing shadows across the scar that dominates half his face.

She takes a step back.

The man crosses from around his desk - oh god he's thrown into silhouette but his eyes are practically _glowing_ \- and crosses his arms as he regards her, drawing her eyes away from the bags of white power piled on his desk.

"Only 'might.' This only 'might' not be a dance club. You get through the men guarding the place and what? They're aggressive bouncers?"

"Hold on! There was no one outside at all. Maybe you ought to-"

He's suddenly two steps forward, hands roughly on her shoulders, shaking her. "There was no one outside? At all? You didn't see anyone?"

"I saw no one I swear!"

He lets out a string of curses so foul; Katara opens her mouth to reprimand him before she remembers she has no authority. Just as that has finally sunk in, the man has shoved the two of them into a door painted to blend into the wall in the dim light. He uses so much force, the jacket ripples back and she sees the pistols tucked on either side of his ribs.

He shuts the door behind them and throws on the lights, revealing a small room with enforced steel on all sides and small circle on the floor. Oh, and an improbable amount of guns.

"What-"

"No one knows about this room. If you tell-" A pistol off the wall was swiftly aimed at her forehead. "I will kill you. Now lift up the plate in the middle of the room. It leads to a sewer. Follow the red chalk marks out."

"What-"

He whirls on her from loading the empty threat he'd brandished at her. "My sister is coming to kill me. I'd like you to leave before she arrives, as she plays with her food before she eats it. Now go or I'll kill you myself."

He turns back to his work in a huff, but Katara straightens. "Then why didn't you kill me when I walked in? I know you already were armed."

The light in this room is good, so Katara can instantly see when he blushes bright red. She's in an impossible, improbably, _deadly_ situation but he _likes_ her. She picks up a pistol from the wall and turns it over in her hands.

"Don't touch that!" He lunges at her, freezing when she brings the weapon up to bear and point dead on his chest. Her feet have slipped into a defensive and steady stance and her hands don't shake as she stares at him. He's wide-eyed, panic already setting in from attacks on two sides.

"Too many people in my life are cops-" His eyes are almost all whites now. "-so I know how to handle a gun. I could shoot you, but then I'm left with a dead body and your sister on the way. Besides. You've clearly done everything to protect me instead of the easy contrary. So grab your guns. Your sister is expecting you to be defenseless and unsuspecting. You've got yourself an Academy trained ally and a very dim room."

"You're not a cop," he asks, taking a step back as tension releases, though it seems more like a statement.

"Oh no. I'm a med student. Daughter of a cop, so self-defense was mandatory. We should spar sometime." He looks at her like she's crazy as she lowers the gun. "Come on. Your sister monologues, right? Figures. You said she likes to play with her food so don't act like I made a groundbreaking prediction. So just sit at your desk. I'll take out her support, and you deal with the family business."

He starts muttering again as she shoves him back into the original room. "Your compliance means I've got a good plan, or there is no good plan and I've just got the best."

She slips into a corner, shielded by the bookshelves that are _not_ up against the wall - seriously, only someone expecting to take cover in his own office does that - as he sits. When he looks up, he meets her eyes instantly. She wonders, briefly, how exactly he manages to so deeply unsettle her when the door bangs open.

An impeccably dressed woman walks in with two men flanking her. The man starts to rise, but his sister cuts him off. "Kill him."

Instead, Katara fires her gun twice, and the bodyguards dropped with holes in their chests. If the stranger was perturbed at all, she didn't show it as she lunged for the man, wrist flicked as a knife flew from it.

He dodges, and the knife sticks itself into the wall behind him. Katara sees his face twist in dismay, mouth "Mai," and he freezes as his sister brings her arm up to throw again.

She doesn't, of course. The knife tumbles from her fingers as she twists in pain, shoulder blossoming red with a bullet from Katara. The stranger wheels on her, a manic gleam in her eye.

"What a little treasure you've hid-"

She lunges for Katara, but the man is suddenly standing over his sister, one hand pressing on her wounded shoulder to force her to her knees. His other arm wraps around her mouth, and he holds her flailing body steady until her eyes roll up and she collapses.

Katara eyes the moving lungs. "You didn't kill her."

"She's my sister."

"She tried to kill you."

"She's my _sister_. I wonder if you could do it were you in my place," he retorted, eyes like fire.

Katara tries to imagine Sokka wanting to kill her and can't. She tries to imagine _killing Sokka_ , and can't. In response, she settles for offering him the pistol.

"Keep it. No one can trace it anyway."

"You're offering the daughter of Hakoda South an unregistered firearm under the impression this is the first time she's killed a man?"

His expression goes wonky when she mentions her father's name, like someone gave him sea prunes when he was expecting fire flakes. He relaxes, resembles a professional in order to reply, "Self-defense was mandatory indeed. Keep it all the same. I have no use for it."

"What will you do with these two?"

She's surprised at how calm she is. Perhaps she's crossed some moral event horizon. But they're in each other's debt, and it's too much of a mess right now to sort out who is more in debt to who. She does flinch when he takes the knife from the wall and stabs it into one of the bodyguard's neck.

"Clearly, my sister and I were having a discussion about our differences, guards dismissed so we were on even footing, when these two burst in intending to take out both of my father's heirs. My sister was shot, but struck one of them on the neck. The force spun him around so I shot him, and killed the other when he turned to run. My father might hate me, but he won't let my sister get away with a failed assassination attempt."

"You're father can't hate you; he's your-"

The words died in her throat as he looked at her, turned so she had a good look at his scar.

Katara no longer wondered how he got it.

"You should go, anyway. Your time here is up." He stands at his desk, arms crossed, the way he did before dragging her into the side room. It's final, dismissing, but Katara wants to grab him by the hand and take him far away, keep him forever. She'll be a doctor soon; she'll be able to afford a kept man.

But Katara just nods and moves to the door. "See you later," she offers.

He nods curtly. "See you later," he replies, in a voice more suited to a sad, "No, you won't."

* * *

It's three weeks later, and Katara is working one of her last shifts at the coffee shop before residency starts when there's a loud noise from outside. Something feels wrong, but she doesn't know what until someone bursts in yelling about an explosion that took out a whole building.

She calls her dad on her break. It's still an open investigation, but he claims it's just a simple gas line malfunction.

Then Ozai Sozin is arrested for murder and drug trafficking, and rumors spread like wildfire.

As does the news that Zuko Sozin is dead.

Turns out that once he got wind of his father's illegal dealings, the heir to the Sozin fortune immediately began gathering data and squirreling it away. He even spent the last six months as his father's bookkeeper, only to drop off all the records of drug deals - and contacts - at the police office this morning and then vanish. The cops had gone nuts trying to find him as they gathered warrants.

That's when the hit when out on Zuko. His father's men demolished his office in an building. Teams were still sorting through the rubble, and there was no body yet. Based on the small size of the room and the amount of explosives, some doubted a body would ever be found, especially as Sozin's men could have seized the body, too.

Katara spends the rest of her day in a bit of daze, caught in questions that have no easy answer. She autopilots her way through the final orders, shooing people out the door, and starting to clean up.

The bell above the door chimes.

"We're closed-"

She turns to see a young man in jeans and a hoodie that he does not look comfortable in. His hands are shoved in his pockets as he stares at her with bright gold eyes.

There's an overhead light shining right on his scarred face.

He shuffles his feet, before smiling tentatively and offering a clearly strong hand to her. "Hi. My name is Zuko."

"Hi, Zuko; I'm Katara." She takes his hand happily. "How can I help you?"


	2. The One Where You're On the Subway

**The One Where You're On the Subway**

She's always asleep when he gets on the early morning train. He doesn't blame her. It's 6:30 in the morning, and half the time she's wearing scrubs and looking like she only got halfway through her morning routine. She's got dark circles under her eyes and always a different book on her lap. She reads like a textbook night-owl trying to become an early bird.

Zuko bets she's a better doctor in the afternoons no matter what she puts in the travel mug tucked in the crook of her elbow.

She always wakes up a stop before hers, as if she's been doing this ride forever and her body just _knows_ when to move. She slides into consciousness beautifully, like sunlight reluctantly breaking over a treeline.

She'll look blankly at him, always, before her eyes slide into her lap and focus on her book.

It's the best part of his day.

Zuko had been concerned for her sanity the first time he got onto this train. So few people sit at the back of this line - even when busy - due to how the stations were built. He's always like the back of public transportation because fewer people look at you.

But the first time he saw her she was all alone in this car and fast asleep. He debated waking her up, until someone else entered the car. This stranger moved like he was going to sit next to her, but he bumped her foot and she jerked awake with all the situational awareness of someone with siblings. The stranger moved off to sit someone where else - and made awkward eye contact with Zuko.

He refuses to worry about her from then on, as she doesn't even carry a purse with her to be nabbed.

That resolution doesn't last, but to his satisfaction after a few weeks of his consistent presence in "her car" no one else joins them on the 6:30 am early bird ride.

Sometimes he thinks about getting off with her, talking with her as she walks for a bit. But the school where he teaches is two stops past hers, and he can't afford the loss of time. Unlike her, he is a morning person, and so he teaches as many morning classes as students will take.

Honestly, he becomes a worse professor as the day wears on, and Uncle's "organic" energy bars - which he is forced to accept constantly as gifts and only ate once - don't help him at all.

So he'll just watch over her sleep, caring as much as she can. She doesn't even really notice him anyway.

* * *

Katara is in love with the strange man who watches her sleep.

Well, _watches_ is a strong word. He's more like her bodyguard, just sitting there so no one messes with her. She hasn't been tripped over or accidentally fondled since he joined her morning commute.

And he's not creepy about it either. He jumps on a stop after her, pulls out a stack of papers and a red pen, and reads for the trip from the almost-suburbs to downtown. She doesn't even know when he gets off. She wants to stay and ask of course - once her internal alarm finally kicks in and wakes her up - but she's always _just_ on time for her shift. So she can't.

At least, she thinks he's not creepy. She's never slept so well in a moving vehicle before, among allies or not. He never tries to press for conversation when she wakes.

He just sits, far enough away that she has her own space and they're clearly not together, but close enough that he could intervene if something goes wrong.

Some mornings, when she's really tired, and still falling asleep when he steps into the car, she dreams about something dramatic happening, something implausible and almost horrible. But he'll stand up in a flurry of papers, and fly to her defense.

It's a nice fantasy.

Katara decides to trust this young man, though Sokka would disapprove, and starts carrying a small bag with her for her scrubs. She used to keep them in her employee locker at the hospital, but this way she can take them home to clean them and wear them on the train less. Her bag is never touched, so she keeps bringing it.

As consequence she also starts dressing up a little more. Just 'cause.

The first frazzled, I-slept-through-my-first-alarm day under this new system, she dumps her scrubs out to change and an energy bar tumbles out, too. It's an expensive one, at least expensive relative to her right now, so full of ingredients and nutrients that it's practically a full meal by itself. Katara knows exactly who gave it to her, and she's grateful as its her only bit of breakfast for her shift.

She starts finding the bars regularly.

When she wakes up to a cheap travel cup of bracing tea next to her, Katara knows she has to do something. Especially when he still won't talk to her in the time she's awake before her stop. Wildly fantastic plans more befitting fiction crossed her mind, before she settled on something simple.

* * *

It's been a few months of this when she doesn't wake up.

Zuko's already slipped the energy bar into her bag; today's one of the days she needs it. He had meant to bring her tea but his own morning had been rushed.

To see her still asleep as the train pulls out of the stop before hers is worrisome. Yet here she is, still half over in her seat, breathing even and steady. She doesn't show any signs of waking, so Zuko eventually does the only think he can think to do.

He tucks his papers away - his students papers; he's always been prompt in returning graded work; what else does he have to do? - and stands. He steels himself, remembering the mornings trying to wake up his sister and getting smacked in the face.

Zuko steps towards her, reaches out, and touches her shoulder. "Hey," he murmurs. "You'll miss your stop."

Her eyes blink open, blue and clear, and she smiles at him. "If it takes being late to work for us to have met, it will have been worth it."

He tilts his head and almost rolls his eyes. "Please. I'm the history professor. If anyone gets to be Alexander Hamilton in this relationship, I do. Now come on; your stop is next."

"I know," she replies, smiling still as she stands. "And what exactly is the nature of our relationship, professor?"

Zuko freezes as he realizes his hand is still on her shoulder. He retracts it quickly, but can't find any words to reply with.

"Tell you what." She fishes Uncle's energy bar out of her bag. She starts unwrapping it as the train comes to a halt. "There's a nice little bookstore up stairs of this stop. I like to go browse there when my shift gets off at night. It closes at 11pm, so you have until then to find me." She bites into the bar and makes to step off. "Oh, and I'm Katara."

The train car doors shut behind her, and as it pulls away from the station Zuko watches her vanish into the crowd.

"I'm Zuko," he suddenly blurts, and then curses himself for being so awkward.

He spends the rest of the day not so much teaching as mentally preparing for his evening in a bookstore. He doesn't even know when she'll be there, but as soon as office hours are over for the afternoon he's riding the short trip to her stop and running out the doors.

* * *

Zuko is an Associate Professor, with an office full of books and gifts from students over the decade he's been teaching. He loves seeing students fall in love with history, loves watching music nerds freak when ever he quotes musicals, and loves it whenever students teach him something. He learns so much grading papers, sometimes.

Still not what he loves most.

It's 5:30 in the morning, and the alarm by the bed is going off. Zuko's already awake. He's aware of the stories, that his ancestors could breath fire; that others could manipulate water, air, and earth. He's not sure if he believes it, of course, but it explains why he's always awake in the mornings with the sun and before the alarm, unlike some people.

Zuko's focused on the other side of the bed, as a brown haired beauty moans in distress as she does every morning her shift starts early. Still, half-asleep, she rolls over to face him.

Katara's eyes slide open slowly as she looks blankly at him. Wakefulness creeps into her eyes like a sunrise slowly casting sunbeams across the ocean. Her gaze focuses on him, and she smiles as she always does when she sees him in the morning. Her eyes are a tsunami, overwhelming with love. He leans in to help kiss her awake, and she rises up to meet him, like the tide.

 _That_ is his favorite part of his day.


	3. The One Where She Stole Eggs

**The One Where I Stole Your Eggs**

"Dammit," Katara hissed as she surveyed her kingdom kitchen. She was making the cake for her brother's birthday in two days, and had saved three eggs for just that occasion. However, as she was getting the eggs from the fridge, the cat chose that moment to weave between her legs, tripping her, and now her precious ingredients were broken on the kitchen floor.

"Dammit," she hissed again as she quickly cleaned up the mess. Aang was borrowing her car to pick up Toph from the airport, and would thus be another hour at least. Sokka was with Suki, so neither of them-

 _Suki._ Of course.

They lived in the same building, and Suki had told Katara that she left her balcony door open. If Katara should ever need to get into Suki's apartment, she could make her way down two floors and over a couple doors. Her spare key was always hanging by the door, so Katara could lock up behind her.

Perfect.

Katara grabbed her handwraps, stuck the half-made mix in a cat-proofed cabinet, and dashed out her backdoor. It's late, so there aren't many people out on their balconies. Katara just hoped no one spots her and mistakes her for a thief.

She dropped down to two floors below and three doors over. The glass door slid open easily. Relaxing, Katara saw her plans for the cake come to fruition.

"Suki? Just in case you two are here, I'm borrowing some eggs. Just three. I'll pay you back once I get my car back and can run to the store."

It's dark, but she still made her way to the fridge and opened the door. "Perfect." She carefully extracts three eggs from the almost empty fridge. Prizes gently cradled in her hands, Katara stepped back from the fridge and kicked it shut.

That was when the light flicked on.

Katara sighed, realizing she was going to have to deal with her brother, most likely, disheveled and annoyed she interrupted his "birthday gift" from Suki. She turned to address her brother, and blinked.

Suki had redecorated her apartment. And there was a strange, dark-haired man standing by the light switch with obvious bed head, and a scar Suki had described a lot. Katara was not, in fact, in Suki's apartment but in her "totally hot, why don't you come over and meet him" neighbor's apartment.

"Shit."

"It's not often that someone steals eggs from my apartment. How did you get in?"

"First off, I meant to borrow eggs from my friend Suki, who's your neighbor. I live two floors up, so she leaves her balcony door unlocked in case of emergencies like this. Second, you left your own balcony unlocked, so sorry you made it easy. Third, it's barely nine, were you already asleep?"

He blinked at her a few times before replying, "I was not aware I lived next to someone with acrobatic friends. And yes, I was asleep. Not all of us are egg thieves lacking early morning responsibilities."

The two stood in silence for an awkward minuted before Katara ventured, "So can I have these eggs? I'm in the middle of baking a cake."

"I mean, I guess sure. You climbed down two floors for those, so enjoy."

He ran a hand through his messy hair, looking askance, and Katara suddenly became very conscious of the clothes she was wearing.

"Hey, um, so in raiding your fridge for eggs I notice you don't have a lot of groceries. I'm making a grocery run tomorrow once I get my car back. I can take you tomorrow at any point after six? I'll even make you dinner, too, as thanks for lending me eggs and not attacking up the accidental intruder in your home."

"Once I realized you were harmless I would have let you alone."

"Who ever said I was harmless? I didn't learn these skills as an acrobat. I bet I could take you."

He huffed quietly in laughter. "You would fight a sleep-addled man? That's cold, woman. Tell you what, I accept your invitation to dinner. I already have a grocery run arranged with a friend of mine, but I thank you for the offer. What's your apartment number? I can drop by at seven, giving you plenty of time to shop and cook?"

"It's a date. I'd shake on it, but my hands are full. Will you get the door for me?" His feet were absolutely silent as he crossed over and unlocked his front door. "Thanks. My name is Katara, and I'm in apartment 916."

"Nice to meet you, Katara. I'm Zuko, of apartment 710, not 712."

"Now you tell me. Good night!"

"Good night," he said, almost all breath as he shut the door behind her.


	4. The One On the Bus

A/N: This one's a little different, obviously. It's a poem that came about from the prompt on tumblr, "I trip on the bus and you're the first person I grab onto"

 **The One On the Bus**

Zuko is ever so grateful for Toph's lessons on the cold bus ride -  
he's been training firebending with her;  
picking up where Uncle left off  
in adding earthbending techniques to his bending -  
because when the bus suddenly **slams** to a stop  
he remains standing, _centering himself_ in his piece of floor,  
letting gravity take him just far enough  
into the _bend_ of his knees  
and the grip of his arm on the pole he stands firm –  
not the the brunette next to him,  
who _reeks_ of waterbender  
as she tries to _react against inertia,_  
losing instead and crashing into Zuko,  
her hands clutching at his shoulders even as she's thrown into him -  
but he can't be mad when she looks up at him  
with embarrassed eyes in a **blue** he never could have imagined -  
 _she'd outshine any sapphire, any fire opal_ -  
her mouth drops open and he can imagine the stammering apology  
so he cuts her off with a smile,  
wide and genuine and _real_ ,  
and whispers a corny line with just enough self-awareness  
she _smiles back_ and laughs –  
and months later when they've gotten into trouble _again_ -  
serves him right for loving a girl that befriended _Aang_  
rather than moon after the _Avatar_ -  
he's ever so grateful for Toph's lessons  
because the men chasing Katara expect fire to come from his _fists_ ,  
not sprout from the ground after an earthbending-style **kick** -  
"Al _right_ , Sparky!" -  
then he has his hand in hers -  
"You don't have to hold my hand when we run, Zuko!" -  
and thinks about the kisses he'll steal later on the _bus ride home together_


	5. The One With Paint All Over Them

_A/N: What? Two in one day? Lucky kids._

 **The One With Paint All Over Them**

"SOKKA!"

He's pretty sure his sister just broke the sound barrier, but he doesn't care. He is shoving Aang out the door before she can snatch a hold of either of them - or before Aang can feel guilty - and they're running down the hall of her apartment building and down the stairs before she can recover enough to dash after them.

"'k, listen. We did the right thing. I need man time, and _you_ have got to stop mooning over my sister, which is what man time was invented _for_ \- 'sup, Zuko! - and if she knew about this unrequited love situation she'd _totally_ understand. That's what Katara _does_ , anyway. So, you, me, one weekend full of booze and tv - oi, wait! Zuko beware of my sister. I'm leaving you a volatile situation, totally not sorry. Bye! - and you are not getting out of this, so suck it up and prepare for the awesomest weekend ever that will _not_ be filled with painting apartments in close quarters with women who broke our hearts unintentionally. Whoo!"

Aang half-heartedly "whoo"ed in response, though Sokka decided to chalk his lack of enthusiasm up to confusion and disorientation. Whatever. This man time was scientifically designed to lift spirits, and Aang bounced back fast from all sadness.

Sokka was just a little sad he'd left Zuko alone to fend off Katara. He didn't know the guy well - how well to you really get to know the loner neighbor of your sister? - but it felt a little wrong abandoning him.

But Sokka didn't know the guy's taste in beer, so-

"Turn on the tunes, Aang! Our man time has begun!"'

* * *

"Of all the selfish, inconsiderate, RUDE things my ASSHOLE of a brother could do-" Katara turned from yelling down the hallway to kick her door open. "He pulls this shit when I need help."

Anger boiling easily just below the surface, Katara surveyed her apartment. She had _just_ gotten approval from the supervisor to repaint the walls - from an off-white showing all sorts of stain and wear - to a warm cream. She'd successfully recruited her longtime best friend Aang into helping her so she could at least enjoy some of the day off she was using for the project.

The two had finished moving her living room furniture into the center of the room, covering everything with tarps, and taping off the edges when Sokka burst in, talking loudly about "man's weekend" and absconding with her only ally.

Now, as she stared at her messy living room and an _entire day_ painting, Katara was livid.

"Hey, Katara-?"

"What." She wheeled about, intent on bringing the full force of her anger down on this new torment, only to see her neighbor, Zuko, standing there concerned. "Oh my gosh, I am so sorry."

She leaned away, and in response he took a step forward. "Is everything alright? No, sorry, that's a dumb question. What's wrong?"

Katara swallowed hard, not about to cry in front of her incredibly attractive and kind neighbor. "I've always hated the white walls so I finally scrounged up enough cream paint, approval from the super, and an entire day free, my brother drags my help away when it's too late to back out. So now rather than an afternoon painting with relaxation afterwards, I'm going to spend my entire day here, if I even finish."

Zuko stood in silence, hovering just outside her doorway. _Great, now he'll probably think I'm crazy, or emotional, or-_

"Right, I'll grab some painting clothes then."

"What?"

Zuko wavered, unsure for a moment before he straightened. His gold eyes met hers, watching as if he were a hawk and she a particularly delightful piece of prey. "You just said, basically, that another pair of hands is the difference between a frustrating day painting alone and relaxation. I unexpectedly have the day off, so if you give me five minutes to track down some painting clothes, I'll help you, as long as it takes. We're neighbors after all, and Uncle didn't raise me to walk out on a beautiful woman in need of help. Give me just a sec," he quickly added, darting out of view and presumably into his own apartment.

Katara was still standing there in disbelief when he returned. He had shed the handsome blazer for an aged white t-shirt and jeans.

She eyed his biceps and swallowed discreetly.

"Are you still standing here? I thought you wanted to get this done. Or am I intruding? I can leave if you-"

Katara crossed quickly and hugged him, tightly, cutting off his sentence in surprise. "You said I'm beautiful. Stay as long as you like." She looked up at him, taking a step back so her hands now rested on his biceps to brace her. "But if you stay I am going to take you up on the offered help."

"Of course. Lead me to my roller."

She's got the primer open and ready, and he takes to pouring it to his tray with gusto. She quickly shuts the door - "Don't want paint fumes leaking out where kids might be." - and opens all the windows as he starts with the primer.

They work in silence for a bit, starting on either ends of the hole in the wall that serves as the divide between kitchen and living room.

She breaks first.

"Unexpectedly had the day off, huh?"

"Yeah. The owner of the restaurant where I'm a chef, well I don't know all the details but he had a family emergency and closed the restaurant."

"Do you like working there?"

"Of course," he replies, and Katara notes he's moving as slowly and carefully as her, sure to mimic her care so that her place is to her tastes. "Everyone loves food, and here I am working with something people love. Plus, I feel like the secret, unsung hero, working in the back to create new recipes to bring people joy. What about you?"

She starts a little, but keep priming the walls. "I'm a photographer, mostly for events. I get paid to capture beautiful moments and eat the free food."

"Weddings are your favorite then?"

"I like them, but I love doing stuff like senior pictures the most. Trying to distill someone at the edge of a major life change into just a few different shots? It's a challenge, but I love it when I have a creative subject willing to work with me. Totally different vibe from trying to work a concert."

He laughs, adding, "Oh, I bet it is. Favorite picture you've ever taken?"

"It happened at a wedding-"

Zuko cuts in with further laughter and, "but weddings aren't your favorite?"

"Shut up, and don't interrupt. So I'm taking the wedding party pictures for this lovely couple. One of the groomsmen though, well I'll admit he was attractive, he thought he was the biggest deal. Acting all suave and cool. He had nice moments, where you saw what made him such a good friend of the groom, but he was clearly trying to impress the ladies. Horses were involved - trust me, this was the _last_ time I worked with live animals that weren't pets - and this guy decides he's going to ride one of them. The horse was not amused, and took off. So my favorite picture is that of this handsome man, his face in abject but humorous terror, as he falls backwards off a rushing horse."

He joined her merriment briefly, before she added, "He kinda reminded me of Sokka in that moment, my brother. So what's your favorite memory with your brother?"

Zuko smiled weakly. "I don't have one."

"A sister then? Come on, you read like someone with siblings."

"Yeah," he begins slowly. "I have a sister. I don't have many good memories with her though. We were always so different, and she was only two years younger. I always wanted to play with the pets, but Azula would be in the corner, her dolls lined up as soldiers, committing war crimes. And when mom-"

He breaks off, his roller still against the wall. Katara notices he's moved faster than her, painted more. Must be because he's taller. And more muscular.

"When I was eight, I think, my dad was out back teaching my brother something with power tools, and making a bunch of noise. I was cooking with my mom when some strange man burst in, yelling about 'the last pride of the Southern Water Tribe' or something. My mom quietly told me to run and grab Dad, so I ran out the back door. He and Sokka were sawing something in half, so they didn't hear me until I seized my dad's pants."

Zuko was staring at her now, wordless.

"My dad got there first, and then wouldn't let me and Sokka inside. In the time it took me to get my dad's attention, the man had shot my mom. She'd attacked him with a knife, as his blood was on our floor, but he escaped. It took us all along time to forgive ourselves, and stop thinking anyone was to blame but him."

"I was eleven when my cousin died, and my father tried to replace my uncle as heir to the family business, arguing that since my uncle had no kids everything should go to him, who actually had heirs to pass something on to. My grandfather was furious, as he made a great deal out of authority and hierarchy. Azula heard him- she heard him demand my father give up his own child as my uncle did, so he'd understand just what he asked. She ran to me, to gloat or warn me, I don't know. But I was with my mother, who heard everything. She just rose wordless and breezed from the room. My father loved Azula more, and he would not have parted with her willingly, so her loss would be like Lu Ten's death. And yet, I was the eldest, the heir, the obvious parallel to my cousin.

"My mother woke me that night; she came into my room from the door connecting mine to Azula's. She kissed my forehead, told me she loved me, and then left. I never saw her again, and got up that morning to the news that my grandfather had passed away in the night, and my father would be taking over. Uncle and I were the only ones who seemed to care my mother vanished the same night."

Katara watched him as he mechanically primed the wall. "I didn't leave home for another two years, when I went to be with Uncle. I probably should have left earlier, but Uncle didn't realize anything was wrong until he walked in on my _father_ holding my face over an open flame."

Her roller clattered onto the floor. She quickly stooped to pick it up. "I am so sorry, Zuko. That's awful."

"It's just how it is. Just like how much farther I am on this than you."

"You have longer arms! And you're taller! It's not my fault."

"Those are the words of a sore loser."

Katara stuck her tongue over her shoulder. "You should stop teasing me and get painting. Or I'll quickly catch up."

"In your dreams."

They worked in amiable, if weighted silence for a time. When finished with the primer, the two gathered in her kitchen next to the open window to let the primer dry. While Katara made tea for two, they chatted about their days, the weather, the exquisite pleasure of watching paint dry with someone.

"You can do whatever you want, any career, all doors opened to you, what do you do?"

"What?"

They had stuck to lighter, happier topics as they poured out the paint and started on the walls. Yet here Zuko blindsided her with this question.

"I guess, I would be a doctor. Save lives. I still want to make up for my mom, I suppose, and that's probably why it's a good thing I fell in love with photography. I'm capturing _joy_ , seeing people when they are proud and happy instead of under stress and near death. You?"

"Your answer is to do exactly what you're doing? That's stunningly perfect; and not to steal your thunder but I think it's mine. Only it would be my restaurant, my Uncle's teas on the menu."

"That's sweet," she replied, glancing at him to see when he wiped his forehead he left a bit of paint behind. "Zuko, you got some paint, right here-" She touched her own face and felt a trace of paint stick. "Oops."

He set down his roller and crossed over to her. "Here, I can get that." Suddenly, he's in her space, standing so close she can practically smell him. "Close your eyes."

She did.

She regretted that trust half a second later when he ran his paint-covered hand across her cheek. "Oh it is on!" she yelled, bringing her roller up to meet his arm thrown up in a block. A childish game of tag ensued, as each tried to cover the other in paint.

After a couple laps, Zuko caught Katara around the waist with one hand, bringing his other up to paint her other cheek. In her struggle to get free, their legs tangled together, and the two crashed to the floor in a laughing, breathy pile. They tried to settle themselves, untangle their limbs, but all that was accomplished was Zuko, braced above Katara with one arm with the other trapped beneath her.

They rested their for a few minutes, just breathing.

Katara reached up and brushed the edges of his scar; in response, his eyes shut against the soft touch.

"I've taken pictures of many attractive men, but I don't know if I've ever seen a man as handsome as you." His eyes flew open in shock, and they bore into Katara's, a dark gold. "I mean it. You are just-"

He cut her off with a kiss, searing and passionate. She returned his fervor, and they lost themselves for a few minutes, engrossed in the nearness of the other and the feel of their lips.

"It's not love at first sight," he murmured in between kisses, placing weight on his trapped arm so he had a hand free to run through her hair. "More like familiarity." He kissed her again, letting his fingers wander. "It was, _oh_ , it's you. Of course it's you."


	6. The One After I Stole Your Eggs

**The One After I Stole Your Eggs**

At seven the next night, Katara was setting out two place settings on her table, when she heard the glass door to her balcony slide open.

She wheeled to face the intruder, spoons in hand for wielding, only to see Zuko step inside and close the door behind him. "Evening," he said as an opener.

"Did you just climb up two floors of balconies?"

"While I would love to say yes, and claim that victory, I desperately wanted to make dinner and a fall from this height would impede that plan, if not the rest of my life plans. I just climbed down from the roof."

"You climbed down four stories? For what?"

Zuko just smiled. "Turnabout is fair play."

"Sit down, you maniac." Grinning herself, she turned to the crockpot. "You keep boasting of this and a girl's gonna get ideas. At some point we'll have to see who's the more acrobatic."

He made a violent choking sound, and Katara quickly spun around. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just took in air a little too fast."

Katara stared at him, eyes narrowed a little as she popped her hip. "What ideas do you have about dinner, Zuko?"

He shrugged, meeting her eyes. "A beautiful woman is making food for me so I don't starve as a thank you. Haven't got much farther than that."

She hummed in agreement as she turned back to the food. "You did climb down an impressive distance. We should race some night if you can. That way fewer people will catch us."

"I appreciate your competitiveness. However I have a much more important thing to do at night, which is sleep, and as someone who spends their entire day teaching self-defense I need every bit of shut-eye I can get."

He blinked and suddenly she was in his space. "You teach self-defense? Would you maybe be able to do a special lesson for battered spouses?"

"That is incredibly vague; please explain."

Katara placed a bowl in front of him. "Okay, I'm technically a counselor at a shelter for battered women - but between you and me I've sort of become the manager - and we're actually renting a hotel room for a few abused men right now, too. But while I can't violate the confidentiality agreement, we've a big influx of physically abused. Now, I know a lot of evasive techniques, among other things, but I'm not certified to teach anything. Do you think it would be possible in the next three months to teach a big group lesson on basically escapes? I could get on my soap box about the psychological business of abuse - because fighting back tends to make it worse - but I want them to know how to get out of some bruises if they end up going back to their abuser. We'd pay you," she adds hurriedly.

Zuko, with a mouth full of her mother's spicy white chicken chili, looked like he's in heaven. He nodded to save himself a few seconds before he could respond. "I'd love to. I'll get you a schedule of events for my school. We'll find a time that works."

The rest of the dinner was spent in casual conversation, both determined to pretend that they could treat the other like an old friend until it was true.

Then dinner was finished. Katara stood and with the surety of one well-practiced, she snatched up the dishes and made her way to the sink.

"Hold on, what are doing?"

"The dishes. It's better to do them right away."

"Well yes, but you made the meal. Tradition dictates that the cook gets away without doing dishes when someone else got the fruit of their labor."

Katara started the hot water with a glance at Zuko. "Ah, but I am your host. Your simple company while I give these a quick rinse will suffice."

She turned back to the dishes, but suddenly he was pressed up against her. His hands covered hers, gently prying the spoons from her hands. "Be a dear and put the leftovers in a tupperware." With his arms gently pressing on her, he spun around and gave her a little shove with his chest so Katara stumbled a few steps away from the sink. By the time she righted herself - and calmed her racing heart - he had the spoons rinsed and was digging into the bowls with gusto.

"If you weren't washing my dishes, I would say things about you," she quipped while digging out a Thai takeout container big enough to reuse for the chili.

He blew her some bubbles, and she giggled like a child. She started boiling water for tea as he set the crockpot to dry and came to rest against the counter next to her.

He opened his mouth to say something, but Katara moved quickly and kissed his cheek.

Zuko coughed a little, and looked a bit shy.

The kettle started to steam, but not whistle, and Katara suddenly felt awful. She must have completely misread the situation, and now she'd embarrassed both of them. She could have made a new friend, and instead she assumed he liked her, and now she'd have nothing.

He surprised her by leaning over and kissing her.

"Do you want to go out for dinner sometime," he asked when he pulled back, eyes watching her carefully.

"Of course. I'm free two nights from now. Same time?"

"Perfect." Quick as he'd moved towards her, he moved away, striding over to her balcony.

"Where are we going?"

He slipped out the door, quipped, "Tell you when we get there," and then vanished over the rail, leaving Katara alone for tea.

* * *

The next day, there was a sign on the front door of their building asking everyone to _please_ refrain from climbing down the balconies.


	7. The One About High School Proms

**The One About High School Proms**

The first time he asks her to prom, it's a quiet affair.

She's reading in the library before school, _like a nerd_ her brother assures her, when Zuko shows up.

Katara's known who he is for a while now. They're right next to each other in the alphabet, so school functions always throw them together. Plus, it's not hard to miss the brooding guy surrounded by a clique of girls led by his sister, looking like he's dying inside but has no choice but to stick with them. Katara can't judge; after all she hangs out with her brother, too.

At least she enjoys herself, and helps people, while Zuko just stands silent while his sister terrorizes freshmen.

Anyway.

She's doing some light reading - _War and Peace_ \- when suddenly her classmate is standing next to her, shuffling back and forth on his feet.

"Um, hi."

"Hi."

"So, I, um, was wondering-" He suddenly breaks off, and shuffles his feet again.

Katara shrugs and turns back to her book. "Our math homework was written _twice_ on the whiteboard-"

"Iwaswonderingifyouwantedtogotopromwithmemaybe."

She drops the book - it makes an impressive thud - and Zuko visibly winces, recoiling from the sound as eyes snap to the two of them. Katara quickly jumps up collect the book, so focused on getting her thoughts in order that she doesn't think.

"ohokaybye"

"No wait-"

Katara thinks about Jet, the douchecaboose, about Haru who can't make decisions, and looks at Zuko and nods once. "I'd love to go with you."

It's not really awkward, going with him.

Well, he's awkward at first. They eventually decided not to go with either friend group, and the two of them ended up enjoying themselves by sitting in the back, snacking away, and just chatting.

It wasn't really worth the money they paid, which is why the week after prom Zuko took her to a sandwich shop so they could do it properly and on a budget.

Before the school year ended, Zuko was firmly entrenched in the "Gaang," sneaking kisses when Sokka wasn't looking.

The second time Zuko asked her to prom it was a much bigger affair.

Katara still spends her mornings in the library, studying like a maniac so she can get better scholarships than her brother. This particular morning, she is reading _The Brothers Karamozov_ \- she tends to prefer Dostoevsky.

Suddenly there are trumpets.

Katara looks up to see two band nerds flanking the library doors as Toph strides in, overconfident. She unrolls a scroll, and then laughs as she tosses it over her shoulder. Somehow, despite being blind as a bat, Toph looks directly at Katara.

"Presenting the flameo hotman himself, Zuko Sozin, here to speak with Katara South."

Then Zuko strides in, looking like a king, but Katara thinks she detects some anxiety in his eyes. He makes a beeline for her, a smile worn like a weapon.

"Katara, will you go to prom with me?"

She considers saying no just long enough that panic enters his eyes, before she puts her book down and calmly intones, "yes."

He smiles, big and wide, even as she makes him promise never to do something in public like this again. He readily agrees, happy if he never has to feel this embarrassment again.

They end up going alone, again, because Sokka is _too cool_ for high school parties and Suki would rather watch old movies with him. Toph doesn't do dances, and Aang is too shy to ask her anyway. So Zuko and Katara get dolled up and go just the two of them, enjoying a night of classmates they hardly know by carving a corner out for just them so as to talk and dance in semi-privacy.

Everyone joins them for IHOP at midnight though.

Zuko falls asleep on Katara's shoulder before the waitress can collect his order, so she just orders him water.

She looks around at the table - that even Mai and Ty Lee have joined happily, if Azula came grudgingly - as everyone laughs and passes the syrup around so all pancakes are thoroughly drowned.

She is _content._

She is content with the easy laughter, the smiles, the sleeping Zuko curling more and more around her as the night turns to day.

She wants this moment to last forever.

Even when the group starts picking and packing up, and she reluctantly rouses Zuko, Katara is content. For now this memory, this moment, is sealed away in her mind forever, and no one can take it away.

As he drops her off, Zuko kisses Katara, sleepy and sweet, before he drives away. She floats into her room to sleep, to dream all this again.


	8. The One With Letters

**The One With Letters**

His first letter is almost cast aside for a simple form letter response, but something catches her eye as her hand almost lets go.

She's the youngest waterbending master in living history, a proud wave who's renowned as an innovate warrior. Now, at 20, she's finishing her training as a healer while he serves on her father's Council.

Right, her father is the Head Chief of the Southern Water Tribes. He's responsible for keeping all the scattered tribes friendly and trading fairly. Sokka, her brother, is functionally in charge of their tribe as he hones the natural leadership skills of their family.

She does help her father, no matter what the stuck-up noblemen in the North say.

She burns every single one of their marriage proposals.

Katara ought to hand this new letter over for a aide to reply to, but she can't.

 _Sifu Katara,_

The hand begins. His script is clear and precise, like a nobleman's though he beings with more respect than any other have shown the "honored youngest child of Chief Hakoda" in years.

He has expensive ink, too. She can feel its quality still though it has traveled all the way from the Earth Kingdom. Though, the letter has so many stamps she isn't sure where it originated.

 _Sifu Katara,_

 _You are the youngest waterbending master in history, and sit on your father's war council, so I know you are clever if not wise. I need your help._ _How do you keep from_ _frying_ _icing the_ idiots _you are required to deal with as a responsible member of politics?_

 _Thanks,_

 _Zuko_

Katara can't help but smile as she pulls out a new sheet of paper, her official stationary, and writes a letter her father would not let out if he ever read it.

* * *

Iroh is grinning when he hands Zuko the correspondence necessary for a Fire Lord's attention. He should've recognized his uncle's look, but he was so buried in other paperwork he took the letter without glancing up.

One sharp fingernail cut the letter open.

 _Zuko,_

 _I'll admit, it's not everyday I get a letter from an Earth Kingdom citizen(?) that is so, informal. I had an interesting time trying to make sense of your return address. I hope this finds you well._ _In response to your question, I make a habit of ignoring most of the idiots. I used most of them as my own personal mops during my mastery exams, so I happily burn their correspondence without reply. As the South is much less formal than the North, I am free to challenge any idiot who insults me during the council meetings. My father has made it very clear I have the same standing as another blooded warrior._ _So the answer is, I don't have to keep from icing them. Usually I just have to freeze their tea._ _If I may, why do you ask?_

 _Happy travels,_

 _Katara_

The Fire Lord huffed in quiet laughter as he reached for a new piece of stationary.

"Nephew, don't you have trade agreements to look over?"

"This is important correspondence, Uncle, but thank you for your concern. I'll let you know if I need more help."

Smiling, Iroh leaves.

* * *

 _Sifu Katara,_

 _There are just a lot of idiots in my life I have to deal with. Well, not idiots. Just people who refuse to consider I might have something better to offer than the broken systems of the past. It's a headache, but I think I'm bringing some around._

 _You mentioned the South being less formal than the North. Care to explain this to a poor soul who has never visited the poles?_

 _-Zuko_

* * *

 _Zuko,_

 _You can call me Katara. You know that right?_

 _Anyway, so the South is still mostly divided into its different villages. My father is the head chieftain of the whole South as well as our village, so my brother usually takes care of the village. We all answer to him. He keeps us trading fairly; he negotiates conflicts - but he'll let people fight it out if they have to._

 _In the North, they're basically all in one big, ice-carved city. There are a few groups living outside of that._

 _More importantly, we actually live at the pole in the South. We get the polar summers and winters, where night or day last for over 24 hours. The North sees maybe 18 hour days, max. They have some earth, some ground to keep things. The South lives more on the edge, though trading helps._

 _What do you actually do that brings you in such proximity to idiots? You were very vague._

 _-Katara_

* * *

Months pass, their letters interchanged serving as their own personal calendar.

"Two days to a letter, so plenty of time for this arrangement."

"Letter tomorrow, better get reports from my ministers today."

Their bundles of papers wrapped in twine grow, as does a collection of trinkets and drawings. Slowly, they began to weave other stories, other hints into their writing as hopes, fears, and encouragement made its way across the vast distance between them.

"Katara, look at this rock formation I found! I'll show it to you in person someday."

"Included are some beads traded I for. If When If you make it down here, I'll teach you how to wear them in your hair."

And, naturally, they kept their secrets, even if something else bubbled up between them that could not be shared with the father-figures who eyed each new exchange.

* * *

Katara set a draft of a letter over a fire to burn as she held his latest letter.

 _Katara,_

 _I wish I had been honest about where I was, and why I have to deal with petty lords and negotiate their trade agreements. I need your advice on a matter, but I don't have the time to wait for a response, or the heart to hear your reaction though you've been so understanding of my secrecy._ _I should have written you earlier, but I'd hoped to preserve our utopia for as long as I could._

 _You are glorious, that much is clear from your letters. You're clever, and caring, a bit stubborn but that's the nature of the ocean, and I wouldn't change you for anything._ _I'd give my eyes if I could see your face once. I'd give my right hand if I could just thread my fingers through your hair first._

 _I'd give up my life to live it next to yours._

 _I am traveling soon, to negotiate with former enemies of my family. The history is complicated, and I don't expect to return. This agreement has to go through, and I've been warned a marital agreement may be the only thing possible to ensure a lasting agreement, and I will not sacrifice my little sister when I've already done so much to cut her free of our father and his machinations._ _I just wanted you to know how I feel, in case I can never write again. If the worst comes to pass, find someone like your brother to stand by you. He sounds like he'll mature, and what's more he's not as pigheaded as most nobles I know._

 _If the worst doesn't come to pass… I guess we'll figure that out then._

 _Best of luck,_

 _Zuko_

The ashes of her own letter fell into the hearth. She'd started writing a second letter, about her own travels, when his reply arrived.

He'd hinted at feelings, something she shared, and then he outright tells her when it's too late to do anything about them.

Katara can't be angry, though she wants to be. A minor lord's son in the Earth Kingdom(?) would not be a good match for a councilwoman of the Southern Water Tribes, recently removed from her seat in order to act as Ambassador. She didn't even get to tell him she was going to be in the Earth Kingdom soon, and could hunt him out.

The letter placed with the others, Katara returned to packing.

* * *

"Welcome!"

The small man was buzzing about like a bee, but Zuko mostly ignored him. Uncle would catch all the important details, make the required pleasantries, and discussed how focused the Fire Lord was on the proper negotiations.

Zuko wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

"Uncle, just let me know when the Ambassador gets here."

He wasn't sure how this would go, now. The Ambassador from the South he had planned on had been an older woman. Apparently, she had caught ill, and a new one had been appointed from the Council, but no one was saying who.

He'd hoped it was Katara, briefly, before remembering that no one could hide the movements of a master waterbender who is also the de facto Southern princess. Servants _talk_.

He flopped onto the bed provided for him in the guest quarters of the governor's house. Shu Jing had gracefully accepted the proposal of hosting this meeting, since tensions had been high between the Fire Nation and the Southern Water Tribes for generations.

Pirates spoiled many a mood.

But Chief Hakoda had unified the tribes, mostly, and as such could stomp out their pirates bit by bit, while Zuko's "coup d'etat" had resulted in the same, as he turned his nation's focus inward to burn out the corruption. Sometimes literally.

So now the South wanted to get in on the Fire Nation steel, which was superior to Earth Kingdom iron, and Zuko's people could use the straight wealth he'd receive from the trade if the furs and fine beadwork did not take off like he hoped it would among the nobles, particularly those who lived on more ocean-dependent islands.

"My lord," Uncle's voice suddenly cut through. There must be someone around for him not to call him 'nephew.' "The Southern Water Tribe Ambassador has arrived."

With no shortage of late teenage sulk, Zuko dragged himself to his feet. Then he straightened himself, sorted his attitude, and opened the door with as much dignity as he could muster.

* * *

"They're coming, sis."

"I figured since we were immediately shuffled off to a fancy hall. Smart of you, to take yesterday to nap as we apparently don't get to rest."

"We're in the better position. Earth likes things even, balanced. So they have to throw us a handicap."

Katara, comfortably seated next to her brother, laughed easily. It eased the tension hanging on her shoulders as servants suddenly bustled in with food and drink. She straightened her clothes, watching the large and untouched doors for the Fire Nation delegates.

A spike of fear was shoved down as the doors opened and she finally got a glimpse of the man fearsome enough to overthrow his own father.

He was handsome, she supposed, even with the scar across his face.

"His Highness, Fire Lord Zuko."

Katara rose with well-practiced grace, thinking of her Zuko. No wonder he had to personally negotiate so much. If she were an ordinary citizen named Yue, well, things would be more difficult.

As she was introduced - "Katara, Ambassador to the Southern Water Tribes" - she met the Fire Lord's eyes - "and her brother, Sokka, son of Head Chief Hakoda" - and could not help the self-satisfaction that coursed through her when his eyes widened. Heh. Did he think her a wimping flower to wither under his gaze? Ha. Master Pakku was more intimidating.

To her surprise, there were no real negotiations. The two parties simply shared a meal and talked easily. Katara did try to bring up a few topics, but her brother or the Fire Lord's uncle always swiftly and deftly turned the conversation to lighter things.

Apparently everything reminded the elder man of tea.

Katara suffered through the meal, however, and managed to look pleasant enough not to offend.

Later that night, she slipped out of her room. She couldn't sleep, and figured a few moments of mediation under the moon would help. She was surprised again, when she bumped into the Fire Lord in the corridors, alone and unarmed, dressed in simple garb.

"Your Highness."

"Sifu Katara."

Pleasantries exchanged, she almost started on her way again until his words sank in. "Excuse me? You have an interesting way of addressing a foreign ambassador."

"My apologies," he began with a bow. "I assumed you might wish to be addressed by the title you earned with skill at an earlier age than most. I cry your pardon."

"No one here knows that," she hissed.

He smiled, and shyly replied. "Then let me introduce myself. Hi, I'm Zuko."

Katara blinked at him, uncomprehending for a few moments. Then she sputtered, "Your letters came from the Earth Kingdom!"

"I have very god spies?" he offered weakly.

"I- you- I-"

"Shall we talk in the garden?"

* * *

Needless to say, the negotiations went very well the next day.


	9. The One With Soulmates

Katara is four years old when her words appear. She is sitting very still and patient in the chief's hut with her parents and grandmother. They're meditating, and praying, when the script seems to write itself on the inside of her upturned wrists.

Only no one can read them.

They're in Fire Nation script.

Her grandmother hides her anger well, but Mom is happy. She takes it as a sign that there are good people everywhere, that peace will come again. It has to, if the daughter of the Southern Water Tribe is meant to be with someone from the Fire Nation.

Katara is six when she overhears a story told by older girls, about how not every wrist-mate-word story ends happily.

She cries. A lot.

Katara is seven when she thinks to copy down her wrist-words and find a translator when she's older. That way, she can show them to someone, without showing her wrists all the time. Sure its the South Pole, and she always has a good pair of gloves that reach up to her sleeves, but igloos are warm, and she's tired of pitying looks leveled at her arms.

When Katara is eight, and wakes up for the first morning without her mother, she finds her right wrist has different words.

She writes those down, too, then covers her wrists with her bracelets and tries to forget.

One morning, when she's fourteen, she wakes up to find her right wrist has changed again. When she goes to write the words down, she finds they've returned to their original script, only bolder, more sure.

That is the day she meets an airbender.

That is the day her brother and her rescue an airbender from a scarred Fire Nation boy, who pushes her up against a tree, ties her there, and promises to save her from pirates.

She _hates_ him, more than she's ever hated anyone, even more than the man who killed her mother and left a hole so deep she'll never forget what he did.

Months pass. She's chased across the world by that same prince as the teaches the Avatar waterbending and masters it herself. She feels the disappointment when Aang finally sees her wrists - and she wonders if it's because she has two names where he only as one, or if it's because they're both Fire Nation - She sees her brother find the loopy script he's longed for ages, pretending he could keep it hidden.

When their mad dash around the world brings them to the doorstep of a swordsmaster, Katara pulls the slip of paper from her pocket.

"Master Piando, would you translate these for me?"

He glances at the page. "They're your wrist words, aren't they? Give me one moment to put the old tongue into the common." He reads more thoroughly, before meeting her eyes. "One of these has his name, so you'll understand why I don't share it with you. But the second written here, it says, 'don't worry, I'll save your from the pirates.' The third reads, 'There's someone in here.'" He returns the page to her. "I hope that provides some comfort."

Katara tucks the words into her pocket with a nod. She knows her enemies now, the Fire Prince and the man who killed her mother. Naturally.

This only fuels her fire for the next time she faces him.

On the day of the solstice, as they fly away from the caldera, the writing on her right wrist turns grey. Katara hides it from the others. No one else needs to know Prince Zuko is dead.

Of course he isn't; he just shows up at their camp with a, "hello, Zuko here."

While the others fawn over him, Katara is just confused, and naturally reacts poorly. But he's alive?

She asks Sokka about it, hypothetically, using no names.

"Maybe your enemy just changed? Maybe they're a new person, but there's no one else in the world for you to fight personally."

A few weeks later, she's practicing waterbending when Zuko suddenly appears and snatches her left wrist. He stares at her words, with wide eyes, then meets her confused and angry glare. "Why is my name on your wrist?"

Katara just wrenches herself free.

As she's done her whole life, Katara forgets about her words with the mess that is her life. Slowly, Zuko earns her trust.

Walking away from Yon Ra, he asks what she thought he would.

"Are his words on your wrist?"

"They were once, but they changed." She flashes the greyed writing. "But my arch-enemy is dead, so I have little to worry about."

When she hugs him, she does it because she trusts him, she's starting to like him. Nothing else.

And when he takes a lightening bolt for her, she pours all her strength in to dragging him back to life.

"Come back to me, Zuko. You will not grey out both my wrists!"

When the war is over, she offers him her left wrist. "What does it say?"

He blushes.

"Tell me."

"'Hi. Zuko here.'"

She undoes her right bracelet, and offers him that one as well. "And what does this one say?"

He pales, instead, as he reads what he said to her against the tree so long ago.

She smiles, and offers him her hands, and her heart, but doesn't feel a loss. He gave her the same offer happily.


	10. The One with the Bet, Part 1

A/N: Another, but different!, high school AU. For how I'm imagining Katara looking, search Deepika Padukone in the first half of _Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani_. ALSO language warning.

 **The One with the Bet (Part 1)**

"Define 'dorky.'"

"You know. _Dorky_."

"If I knew I wouldn't ask, dumbass."

"Okay, fine. Go to the library then-"

"Where the fuck is that?"

"Hell if I know. Just - go to the library, find the girl with the biggest glasses, and ask her out."

"Fine-"

"And actually follow through. This ain't no prank asking. You lost the bet, you gotta pay up. Take that girl to a movie or something."

"I'll probs take her to a museum."

"That's the spirit, Zuko. Now go. Also pics or it didn't happen."

"Fuck you, Jet."

"Love ya, too, buddy."

* * *

 _Class starts at 8 tomorrow, better shower tonight since I'll want to review O-chem before that. APUSH might give me trouble, but honestly the format of AP French will be the worst. So. Tomorrow, shower, O-Chem, school, then wait for Sokka by studying APUSH and AP French. I got this._

Katara was quietly organizing her tomorrow as she waited for her brother's football practice to end.

More like organizing her life.

Each day she actually succeeded in her self-created tasks, she got closer to her life out of high school.

If she played her cards right, and got good enough grades, she could graduate in May with her older brother. Schools would be crazy not to take her then, and she'd probably get great scholarships so Dad wouldn't complain so much about both of this kids going to college at the same time.

She knew Sokka didn't think those complaints were jokes, as evidenced by the dramatic improvement in his grades.

(Katara saw his shift from a B- to a B+ average as dramatic, the little nerd.)

(Sokka would probably manage an A- average in this last semester that would show up on his transcripts. Not that he would brag about that to anyone but Suki, who was doing better than him in classes simply because a small hip injury was keeping her from off-season soccer.)

Katara expected nothing from her afternoon but quiet studying before her loudmouth and lovable brother gave her a ride home.

Instead, she heard a soft and unsure cough.

She looked up and there was Zuko Lee standing on the other side of her table, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but there.

"What do you want?"

He stammered for a moment, then fell silent as he drew himself up. "Go to the museum with me? Please, and only if you want to? Not today, obviously, but Friday after school. Or next Friday if that's better."

"I- what?"

"I'm asking you on a date, genius."

"I gathered!" Katara snapped back, drawing her books closer to her. "And I don't know if I want to go with you."

He seemed to deflate a little. "I thought you might like a free afternoon that's still intelligent, I guess."

Katara bit back a retort that she'd love to go to the museum, without him, and instead settled into her chair. "Fine. Right after school?"

"Yeah."

Her phone buzzed, signalling her brother's impatient call. She stood, sweeping all of her things into her backpack to sort later. "See you Friday, then." And she hurried out the door.

* * *

On Friday, Zuko Lee met Katara in the library, again, and the two walked out to his car.

It was stilted and awkward, to say the least.

The car ride wasn't much better. Zuko left the radio off, but didn't bother to facilitate conversation, leaving the car in total silence.

They were stiff and awkward in buying their tickets - "It's a date, woman. I pay, and you're going to see all the exhibits." - and they kept a steady distance between them as they wandered through the first exhibit, one on Ancient Greece art and history.

Of course, then they got through to the Renaissance art.


	11. The One with Different Cultures

_A/N: Prompt from ObeliskX. I'm imagining the two slightly older than canon, but they're not so concerned with ages in my imagining of the Sun Warriors and Swamp tribes._

 _(Also, just saying, Aztec-like culture gives rise to an Imperial Japanese-like culture? I don't get it, Brykke. I really don't. Ah well.)  
_

 **The One with Different Cultures**

Zuko doesn't travel much, which is probably why he doesn't recognize her gear at first.

But then the history and geography lessons kick in and he's scrambling to pull at the grate while she watches impassively from below.

He'd stumbled upon her before she'd done too much damage.

She watched him impassively from below as he wrenched the grate free from its hinges. She stood, arms crossed just under her chest, on a sheet of ice. She'd pulled the water out of the sludge, keeping herself unstuck and clean. She'd also used some water to cut into the bars, clearly hoping to cut her way out.

She's not a threat, he knows that, even if their people don't interact all that often. The Sun Warriors and the Foggy Swamp have no conflict with each other.

(He'd have a conflict with her father if the man could read Zuko's thoughts he was desperately trying to corral.)

So Zuko's not really surprised when she doesn't except the hand he offers.

Instead, she gathers the sheet of ice up into as large a pillar as she can make so as to launch herself onto the lip of the trap door. She scrambles up, hair in disarray, and Zuko carefully doesn't notice if it messes with the arrangement of her clothes.

"Thank you," she begins, a little stiff and clearly not in the mood to swoon in gratefulness. "Why is that even there?"

"Invaders," he replies, with a throwaway shrug.

"I'm not invading," she snaps back.

He shrugs again. "The traps aren't sentient. You stepped wrong. I'm sorry, but we're not going to change things for tourists."

"I'm not a tourist." She crossed her arms again, and Zuko locked his eyes on her left ear.

"Pardon me for not being a mind reader. Why are you here?"

Her fight suddenly deflated and she shrunk in on herself. "I'm just passing through with some friends."

Zuko immediately cocked his head and met her gaze head on. "Hold up. That sounds exactly like a spot of tourism. And you're telling me there are more Swamp benders running around in my home?"

"We didn't know anyone was here!" She matched his volume with ease.

"And how lucky for you I was! How long do you think you would have been stuck there if not for me? Your friends are no where to be seen!"

"They're somewhere. They would've found me! I could've broken out."

Zuko laughed, right up until a slap of water snapped his face to the right.

That brief moment of pain was worth it, especially as he could watch her self-satisfied and arrogant expression quickly turn to surprise as he kicked at her twice, once to knock her on her back, the other to spray a jet of flame over her head which he quickly corralled into a net to gently pin her.

She squeaked lightly in surprise, but not in pain.

"Did your master teach you any manners? Don't start fights with someone who helped you. Don't throw your bending around just to show off." He paused, re-focused to keep the flames far from her skin, and spoke again. "By the way, my name is Zuko. What is yours?"

She glowered at him through the fire briefly, before relenting. "Katara."

"Nice to meet you."

That was when a slight _woosh_ warned Zuko of something coming airborne. He let the fire fall away and immediately dived on top of Katara, throwing his arm over her head to protect it.

A _thunk_ sounded, and Zuko was rolling to his feet, scanning for whoever had thrown the missile, only to stumble back towards Katara as a massive thing hurtled towards them, several human figures on its back.

He took two backward steps, a deep breath, and took up a defensive stance in front of Katara. There was no cover to run to, not on the wide courtyard, so Zuko slashed a quickly fading line of fire across his body, a warning and half a prayer to Agni that he'd live.

He'd finish the prayer in battle if he needed to.

Just when Zuko was succumbing to the reality of a fight, ready to strike first and end this, Katara pushed past him waving wildly.

Immediately, the great beast eased his approach. Zuko stared in confusion as the six-legged creature heavily landed before the two of them. Katara immediately ran forward, meeting in a hug a man as tanned as she. There was a brief stab of jealousy that he quickly stamped out.

"Sis! Where have you been?" The larger man easily slipped his sister behind him and turned to Zuko. "And who are you?"

"Zuko."

As a boy in an orange tunic _floated through the air_ to rest next to the tanned man, the later continued, "And what were you doing throwing fire at my sister?"

"She attacked me first," he replied, calm as a candle by a window.

The man snorted, but Katara hit him gently from behind. "He's telling the truth, Sokka. I was dumb. Would you let some arrogant stranger knock you around?"

Her brother looks over Zuko, stiff, still angry, but he murmurs, "I'll go find Boomerang," and he wanders off.

Katara turns on a bright smile, and Zuko recoils a bit in surprise. "Zuko, that was my brother, Sokka. We both grew up in the Foggy Swamp. This is Aang. He's... he's our friend. Appa, the flying bison, he belongs to Aang."

"Eh, he's like my friend. He's not really _mine_. He doesn't belong to me any more than the wind does."

An interesting expression crosses Katara's face, like she's eaten a straight lemon, but she says nothing in response. Instead, she glances up at Appa's back, where a brunette in green is climbing down.

"That's Suki, she's traveling with us. There's also-"

"Oi! I get to introduce myself!" A black-haired girl, also in black, awkwardly climbs off the beast, but once she hits the ground she confidently strides over to Zuko and looks up at him. Her silver gaze is locked on his earlobe, but she smiles and says, "He'll do. Hi, Sparky, I'm Toph. The greatest earthbender you will ever meet."

"The only earthbender I've ever met."

"You're missing out."

"I imagine they're not all as great as you. I suppose when I meet my next earthbender, I'll be disappointed they don't live up to your standards."

She laughs. Sokka, returning with a bent but sharpened piece of metal, looked vaguely worried, the kind of worry of one trying to avoid childish pranks.

Toph turns to face the other four. "Well, we found what we needed. Let's go."

"What?" Zuko and Sokka exclaim at the same time.

The boy speaks for the first time. "I need a firebending teacher. And you used fire like a net, without hurting Katara. That's clever. I'm a little angry you used it on her, but you also ended the fight, and then protected her. That's honorable. So will you teach me?"

"I'm not a master."

Katara is looking conflicted, like she wants to pack up and leave but also maybe not. Sokka seems affronted that the guy who beat up his sister gets an invite. Suki, still silent, is considering him like a piece of meat to be butchered. Toph is the only positive one, and Aang looks like he's half a breath from begging when a simple hunter's horn blows.

Zuko turns towards the mountains. "I have to go. So do you."

Aang deflates. Toph seems disappointed, too, but she covers by loudly demanding help back onto Appa. Both Suki and Sokka consider Zuko as they help shove the smaller girl onto the animal.

Katara follows them, glancing back regularly to watch Zuko as he stands there, resolute.

"We'll be back for you," Aang suddenly declares, startling both Katara and Zuko.

"What?"

"I had a vision. You're supposed to teach me firebending. For whatever reason, you're the best one for me. We've been looking for you. Well, I have. I kinda didn't tell everyone else until now."

Zuko snorts. "Sure, kid." He watches Katara settle in before adding, "Now get out of here before you're eaten by a dragon."

"Dragons are extinct," retorts Sokka.

"So are air bison," he replies, finally remembering history lessons.

As the company slowly lifts off, to leave for what he assumes is forever, Zuko turns to leave himself. He allows himself one glance back.

He meets Katara's unflinching gaze until she's too far away to make out.


	12. The One with the Bet, Part 2

**The One with the Bet (Part 2)**

Katara isn't sure why Zuko, of all people asked her on a date. On a date _to a museum_ , even. She's not going to question too deeply though. She has had a crush on him since she was a freshman.

Katara is sure Zuko doesn't have a lot of experience with art, that he's so blown away by Renaissance art. He's been staring at a still-life - the one with the extinct watermelon the internet went nuts over a bit back - for twenty minutes.

She's not quite sure how to identify what she's feeling as she watches feelings flutter over his face. He much prefers the Italian Renaissance to the Northern; that much is clear. She can watch his eyes trace the light, the curve of the shapes and color.

He's entranced, and she's entranced by him.

It's hard not to be, she realizes. Looking at him from the right, she can trace his youth, the fresh face and curve of a young man full of promise. His eye is bright. Watching from the left, looking over a wrinkled bend singing of fire, she sees a painting of pain that refuses to easily yield up its story.

 _It looks like some bastard put a fist of fire in his face._

But through it, she can trace determination, and a strength to hold onto every shred of hope that he could with the luck required to keep both eyes even with that wound.

He finally shakes himself, torn free from whatever deep truths he was finding in fruit.

Katara reaches out and touches his arm, half a breath from taking his hand but she stops herself. "Come with me. I need to show you what came next."

* * *

He can't stop staring at the light.

He wants to stare at her, this girl who can figure out what art will touch him after a single afternoon together.

 _She's light_ , he thinks of screaming when it hits him like a thunderbolt. He glances at her, and is grateful to see her distracted by the perfect representation of light on water.

She's entranced and entrancing.

This is the best bet he's ever lost.

He watches her eyes trace the movement suggested by the color and the composition, the order he can trace himself, but not when he's captured by her curves and twists, how her hair catches the light. Her skin glows, a myriad of different colors as if she herself is a painting by Monet.

Zuko almost lets anger creep in - anger at his father for never letting him out to museums, anger at tutors for never covering art, only war - but instead, he slips his hand in hers as she stands before a garden recreated in splashes of paint.

She squeezes his hand, and lights his heart on fire.

* * *

He buys her a sandwich in the museum cafe, and she trails behind him to a table. Without the art, they are awkward and shy, two kids remembering they hardly know each other.

Suddenly he makes a face while looking over her shoulder.

Katara twists around to see a table full of high school boys who are staring back, whispering and poking.

"Ignore them," Zuko starts, voice low with annoyance. "They don't believe I actually had a date with a pretty girl."

"Haven't they ever heard of 'pics or it didn't happen'?"

Zuko snorts, amused. "We haven't taken any pictures together, now have we?"

It only takes a second of processing her idea before Katara fishes her phone out of her bag, takes a drink of water, and pulls her chair around to sit next to Zuko. "Well then let's fix that."

She can feel the eyes of his friends on them as the two lean in to the frame. The camera focuses, and just at the last second she leans in and kisses his cheek. Her calm confidence and his utter surprise are saved forever, and she smiles to herself as she offers her phone to him, it ready to send the picture just as soon as he puts a phone number in.

* * *

"Can I see you again?" he blurts out. Her phone is offered like a lifeline he's going to tug on until he stops drowning in her but first he needs-

She smiles. "Of course. But I'd love your number first, so we can coordinate."

He messes up his own number twice, but when his phone dings with the picture, it sounds like a promise.

Katara stands and puts her chair back. "Give me just a sec, and I'll be ready when you are to head back." She vanishes towards the restrooms, and her chair is immediately filled with Jet.

"Dude, it's rude to crash a brother's date. Piss off."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Come on. You've paid up enough. Ditch the girl and come game with us. With you we'll have a 5-stack."

"Date's not done. Maybe I'll catch up later."

Jet rolls his eyes dramatically as he settles into the chair. The other guys are making big motions at their table, which both Zuko and Jet ignore. "Zuko. Come on. This is enough time and money spent on a bet-"

"I'll have you know I actually like this-"

"A bet?"

 _Fuck_. Zuko turns ninety degrees to see Katara, standing baffled and hurt off to his side.

Jet, the insufferable bastard, doesn't look sorry at all.


	13. The One Almost with Fake Prostitutes

**The One Almost with Fake Prostitutes**

Zuko jumps to his feet as Katara hollers from upstairs, "Are you guys certain this will work?" She's still getting ready, presumably, hidden away in her room.

"Yeah!" Toph hollered back. "The dude's a creep for strong fighters, and what's better than a waterbender?"

Katara makes some noise that's unintelligible to those downstairs, so the small party goes back to waiting. Toph is curling her toes around the carpet fibers, trying figure out how much earth is in them. The South's, with a single father police chief captain, aren't so well off as to have "genuine alpaca wool" free of all synthetic fibers for their carpet. Hakoda does like tile, though, so she can see just about anywhere there isn't carpet. Which is currently where she's sitting. Upstairs is wood though, which Toph can't see with her bending on either, but she can feel some vibrations through being a human with feet.

Sokka is polishing his boomerang. Not that Toph can see, or even really feel, but she can hear the soft movements of cloth over metal.

She likes Ponytail. He can laugh at himself, which is more than she can say for all the stuffy boys her parent's friends bring around. They're also why Toph leaves her phone at home when she's out with the "Gaang." No sense in her parents being able to use GPS tracking on her when the only use of her phone is calling 911 or speed-dialing her parents. Why would she want to speed-dial them? But she's off-track. Her phone can read out texts, and idiot boys aren't worth the data they waste.

But a man who can laugh? Priceless. Too bad he's head-over-wolf-tail for Suki. Who, tragically, was the first to get nabbed.

Toph's ready to bust in some doors and kick heads. The problem being, no one knows where this dude is holding their friends.

The door upstairs bangs open. Toph hears more than feels Sokka and Zuko jump to their feet. Everything feels muffled through the carpet, as there is precious little scrap of earth in this floor. Toph slowly stands and shuffles her way to lean against the wall, where the tile runs along. She has slightly more sight that way, and looks like the boys came forward onto the tile, too.

"This is stupid," she hears Katara mutter before she starts stomping down the stairs. "How do I look?"

Toph can feel the coiled tension in Katara wafting through the air. It would take an idiot to miss that Katara's uncomfortable like a rabbit in a snare.

Fortunately, the boys aren't idiots. Toph hears the slight movement of air as they look at each other before Zuko speaks.

"Yeah, this isn't going to work. Take that mess off."

"Excuse me?" Katara's voice goes tight, and Toph thinks fondly of all the times Aang's gotten that voice and consequently frozen solid.

Zuko continues, resolute as ever and twisting around the danger because he _listens and pays attention_ \- and how it is a _firebender_ gets earth better than the half-baked Avatar, Toph will never know - and calmly replies, "Don't get me wrong, you look fantastic" - and _oh_ his heart _jumps_ a little - "but you look uncomfortable as hell. He's not going to buy it, or you."

Katara snorts at the pun, and Toph has to shove down her giddy glee because no one has diffused Sweetness this quick in ages. There's a romance budding and she's not sure if they know it. Sokka can't, or Zuko would have a boomerang in his face.

"Well," Katara begins, hesitant like she's trying to build courage, "who else can do it?"

"Simple, we send in the one person who is comfortable in a multitude of disguises and already has experience fighting in a dress."

"Who is that if not Katara?" Sokka asks, as Toph begins to silently chuckle.

"You," Zuko replies.

Sokka starts. "Wait, what?"

Zuko turns to face Sokka, clearly gearing up for a long argument as to why it has to be him, but the joy bubbling up simply opens the floodgate.

"I never get to be the pretty disguise! Oh my gosh! I am so pumped!" Sokka takes off for the stairs and pushes past his sister. "I'm am going to be the prettiest prostitute!"

The door slams shut behind him in his excitement.

Toph snorts. "Good thing your dad's not home, and legally working on this case, right?"

Katara awkwardly shuffles, as does Zuko, clearly thinking about how a cop's son is about to dress in drag and pretend to be a prostitute.

"Hey, uh, Zuko, this dress has a lot of hooks. Can you help me real quick?"

Toph throws herself back on to the couch, trying not to look too happy. "Excellent. Get the guy with eyes to help you so I can kick back and rest up for beating goons into the dirt."

When she hears his hesitant footstep up the stairs, she grins like the cat that caught the canary, or whatever.

She was _wrong_. Sweetness and Sparky know perfectly well they like the other, and that it is requited. Oh, Sokka's gonna kill Zuko if they keep it a secret for too long - the overprotective brother who won't leave his sister alone with a boy that he is - and she is not going to begrudge the two for leaving her alone. Sokka will take his sweet time getting ready, and Toph can entertain herself.

And if the only time you can get to smooch is while your brother dresses up like a prostitute, you take the chances you can get.


	14. The One of Painted Spirits & Blue Lords

**Painted Spirits and Blue Lords**

He cuts through the water with ease, gliding across it without effort.

He cuts through the water like a knife as his will drives him along his river. To someone watching, it might resemble someone ice-skating, if ice-skaters threw up waves as tall as a man.

He's grinning, a grin that looks much more menacing in the moonlight, as he's winning the race.

He doesn't glance back, or to the side, even though the corner of his eye tracks a dark shadow trying to keep pace along the riverside. This is his river, his lands, and he will not be bested on home turf.

It will certainly make up for when she last bested him.

He's chuckling now, leaning more into the wind. They've never raced this far up the river, so she has no idea what's coming.

First, the almost ninety-degree bend in the river that tilts just so, and she's on the far side, the longer curve, and he gains seconds just from pure geography.

Second, the waterfall.

He laughs aloud as he twists into the spray, vanishing for a moment before he rockets to the top of the waterfall.

Now he stops and turns back to look at her, standing at the bottom of a nearly sheer cliff-face. She's glaring at him as she starts to pry her fingers into the cracks of the rocks.

Spirits they may be, but they are not the same. He is a spirit of the river, _he is the river_ , while she is a martial spirit. Despite the fearsome visage of the theatrical mask, she cannot fly. Her paired dao rest crossed over her back as her arms bulge with the effort of pulling herself up.

"You set the terms!" he reminds her. "The finish line is the start of the river."

"No one told me there was a waterfall."

He shrugs and spreads his hands wide - a gesture wasted as her gaze is focused on the cliff - intoning, "You did not ask."

Before she can sputter out a protest, or curse him, he turns on his heels and speeds forth again.

She is fast, faster than the average mortal at least. She did practically keep pace with him until the severe river bend. He refuses to feel guilty, after all, they have managed to keep the score even between them for many eons, and she set the terms.

He'll make it up to her later.

As he draws closer and closer to his source, his heart sings more and more. This is what she cannot understand. She has a place of pain, a scar in the earth where she was unjustly struck down while defending innocents, crying out to Agni and La for justice with her last breath _they answered her plea, of course they answered her plea, she was born of Fire but sailed the seas as instinctively as one of Water, and they cut down her slayer where he had turned towards the children and allowed her to run free in death as a spirit._ So she doesn't really understand the homecoming.

He sinks into the source of his river and sighs.

It is not sad, oh no. It is the sigh of a weary, exhausted man who has just won a race sinking into a gloriously soft puddle of silk as if the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders.

He lies there for what could be years before his hat is ripped off and she drags him to the shore by his hair.

"You win, fine, good, now help with my blisters."

She goes to throw him to the earth, but he grabs her hands and pulls her down with him. She straddles him, theater mask glowing in the moonlight. She puts all her weight on him, but he takes it gladly as he pulls strings of water up to wrap around her hands and glow faintly with healing.

She leans into him. "Tell me again, who you were before the river, tell me the story."

"It was centuries ago-"

"Yeah," she whispers, flat out lying on him now, mask thrown aside.

"And the town on my river, well, it wasn't a river yet, just reserves of water that flooded down the mountain every rainy season. There was hardly anyplace to escape, and then it was only rocks. So the town were I must have lived built up their homes on stilts to minimize the damage.

"Then the raiders came. They threatened us with fire, swore to put the town to the torch if we would not pay exorbitant fines, funds we needed to maintain our homes and eat should the floods destroy everything."

"Keep talking," she murmurs, and if the paint on his skin was actual paint, she'd be as marked as he.

He takes in a quick breath as her cold hands spread out over his now bare torso. "You're making it difficult, but as you wish.

"My sensei thought up with a brilliant plan. I would bring the flood early when the raiders came to collect. When he flashed mirrors, I would set the waters free to run. He would be waiting in the town to split the waves and protect the town from destruction."

"And did it work?" she purrs, fingers cording through his hair."

He laughs, a quick bark. "I'm here, aren't I? I pulled too much out. The rocks tumbled out of the way under the pull of my bending, and then both I and the waves tumbled down the hill. I was losing consciousness and then felt what I thought was my sensei's reach."

"But it wasn't!"

"Am I telling this story or are you?" He puts his hands around her waist and flips her over. "So I reach out, but it's not my sensei. It was Tui, who had reached up through the spring to guide its birth into a river. And rivers need their own spirits to guard them and the people living on their shores-"

"Less talking more kissing."

"As the Blue Spirit commands."

She surges to wrap her hand around his neck. "Hush now, Painted Lord. Your lips are mine."


	15. The One on the Beach

**The One on the Beach**

She's got headphones on and is buried in a book when he meets her the first time.

Well, "meet" is a strong word.

The brunette beauty is sitting in the sun, cushioned on a beach chair with sunglasses to rival a Hollywood starlet. She's alone, that day.

Zuko is not. He's playing vollyball with his sister and her friends when Azula decides to serve.

She's against him, of course, so she hits it with all her might, sending him sprinting after the last good ball. He knew in that instant he should've brought the old one. It was a colder day so Ty Lee couldn't pick up enough boys for a 4v4.

Anyway, Zuko is sprinting, but he's still growing into his growth spurt, and he's trying to keep an eye on the ball, so it's really no surprise that he trips over air just before the prettiest girl's chair and he crashes into her.

Yeah, "meet" is a strong word.

The girl is only concerned about damage to her book, which is endearing, and while she's inconvenienced, she takes his stammered apologies with grace.

She takes one look at the spiteful dace of Azula, laughing, and starts to pack. She tucks her book under one arm and tells Zuko she'll be here tomorrow with an extra book as she's almost done with this one, if he can spare the time.

Zuko watches her go, stunned.

The minute the sun is up, and he's had breakfast, Zuko is sitting in his own chair, with a book of his own that he scrounged up from the summer house, waiting.

He's asleep, and probably sunburning, when she arrives, so he doesn't hear her laugh like bells as she sets up next to him.

He wakes up to an umbrella tossing shade over him and a small crowd set up around him. But she's there, so he's not bothered. She smiles at him when she notices he's awake - "my family followed me down today" - and goes back to reading like she doesn't mind they don't know each other's names or anything.

At some point he gets dragged into a game of chicken, specifically, who can stand getting knocked over by waves the most and he's not even sure how, but her loud-mouthed brother was determined.

He ends up having fun, losing only to the same brother. But Sokka apparently invented the game, so Zuko isn't surprised or hurt.

He is surprised to find himself at their table - rented through AirBnb, curiously enough - at the end of the night for dinner with everyone's name but _hers_ , even as he sits next to her. He's been folded into this little group without question, without hesitation - even the small collection of adults like him - and without any demands.

"This is just how it is," she whispers to him as she passes a dish. "We like you, so you're ours now."

"I don't understand-"

"Think of it like- oh I'm bad at analogies. But first it happened with Aang, and then Sokka found Suki. Toph just kinda kicked her way in - took a long time to bring her parents around to where they let her leave their sight - and you crashed in. You clearly needed some new friends. So here we are."

"I'm a charity case!" he hisses back.

She shakes her head. "As if Zuko Sozin could be anyone's charity case. You accepted my invitation and showed up with Dostoevsky, clearly the best Russian writer. You don't get to leave."

Zuko pauses, and processes that information - and also that she knew his family - before shooting back, "and if I'd brought Tolstoy?"

"Well then I'd have to kill you. Or at least get Sokka to do it."

They both grin, and she finally introduces herself as Katara.

Then he blinks, it seems, and the summer is over. The days spent on the sand, in the surf, losing _way_ too many pennies to Toph in poker - "I'm blind you idiot how am I supposed to cheat?" - they're all over and he's packing up to go.

Katara slips an address into his palm and extracts a promise to write.

Their boat back to the mainland has hardly left port, and he's already drafting the first one in the empty pages at the end of his copy of Gogol's short stories that she made him buy.


	16. The One After a Near Death Experience

A/N: Disclaimer here; all I know about being a doctor or a cop I learned from Castle and Scrubs.

 **The One After a Near Death Experience**

Her tea is warming on the stove - green tea with chamomile and lavender, with some sugar to be relaxing but not soporific - and the first thing he did on getting home was fluffing the pillows.

He's cleaned, as best he could, and he's in the middle of trying - single-handed - to cook her favorite dinner when she is suddenly behind him, taking the pan with one hand and shoving him aside with the other.

Detective Sergeant Zuko, Homicide, who unflinchingly called a punk's bluff today, screams like a 9 year old when surprised by his wife.

Katara rolls her eyes, abandoning her annoyance left over from her shift.

They've known each other since they were teens, and he still has a fear that one day she'll kill him.

An accomplished medical doctor would be able to pull it off.

The annoyance flows back in, almost anger, as she thinks about how much medical knowledge was put to use on her husband _this very afternoon_ all because he had to stare down some hopped-up kid and dare him to shoot-

Zuko slips in, a sniper kisser, then back out and starts pouring tea. "Come sit with me?"

"Should I shoot you in the other shoulder first?"

"That is not fair, Katara, and you know it! You're just overly concerned about me, which I appreciate, but it truly is unwarranted."

Her eyebrow lifts as she glances away from the stir-fry. "Unwarranted? When Dr. Pardone spent a good part of her day putting your left shoulder back together so I didn't have to?"

His jaw hinges open and he lifts his right hand to gesture, but no words some out so his hand drops and his jaw clicks shut. "I truly am sorry to have caused you worry."

"Your daughter is going to come raging into the world in less than 4 months and you dare some kid to shoot you from less than twenty feet? What were you thinking?"

"That the longer I kept him talking, the longer Mai and Ty-Lee had to get in position to grab him. If I shot back, the kid would be dead and so would our lead on the drug ring that called out that hit. I guess I was thinking big picture, about how this would make our daughter's world safer. I thought he'd shoot me, just not so close to fatal."

Katara plates their dinner, smiling faintly at Zuko's choices, for he did pick well.

The meal is quiet, but not stiff, as both reflect.

When Zuko pulls her to the couch before she attacks the dishes, and she melts into the half-hug, he speaks again.

"On the bright side, physical therapy means I'm out of work for at least 6 months. So you can save some maternity leave for a little later in the early life of our daughter."

"Zuko Lee, I think you've mistaken me for a nobler woman, less jealous of sleep."

"mmmmm" was his only reply, face buried in her hair as the painkillers finally kicked in.


	17. The One with Hope

**The One with Hope**

Katara South loves Zuko Dragon, and always will, and that's all there is to it.

She doesn't know everything about him, of course. They're barely friends at school thanks to the enmity of their siblings. But he works every day after school at his uncle's tea shop, _The Jasmine Dragon_ , which is really the only place to get a properly brewed cup of tea that isn't mass produced and still allows a girl to sit in relative peace and read, or even study. So they've built a rapport now, even if it's mostly silent.

She tries to talk to him, but it's always awkward and flustered. Katara comes enough that she's the best of friends with his uncle, Iroh, who treats her like a daughter - he lets her sit at the counter right next to the till, prime real estate, all day, even though she maybe gets three pots of tea at most, because she is the most "beautiful jasmine flower," but she's pretty sure he lets her sit there because it flusters Zuko, and Iroh lives to fluster and embarrass his nephew.

If anything, it gives her hope that Zuko at least likes her back.

She'd be so lucky if he did. Not because she's one of those girls desperate for a guy, or even desperate for one particular guy, but because he's so _good_.

Is he prickly with a severe case of resting bitch face? Oh hell yes. But he's got good reason for it. After risking his life to save his sister from drowning in freezing water, he loses hearing in one ear and then almost loses an eye in an accident with fire - under _very_ mysterious circumstances with rumors of child abuse that were never proven but still saw him moving in with his uncle. So he's messy.

But he's kind. He's always feeding ducks and stray cats - Katara ought to know, she helped him nurse one back to health in a cardboard box last month but he still can't talk to her without being a nervous mess - and he never is actually mean or sassy to rude customers. He's firm, and just, says "this far and no further" with his frame so the truly insane customers back off. He'll also bend over backwards to help kind and frazzled people.

Plus, he's always reheating her tea for her with a quick burst of his bending whenever she forgets it while reading. She could do it herself, but it's that absent-minded way he looks after the people in his life that warms her heart.

He's starting to smile at her, now, and she's in love with how easy he smiles, and how much lighter he seems.

It's just the two of them in the shop when she realizes she loves him, and she has to tell someone, otherwise she'll explode. She can't tell anyone though, not without getting weird looks, when the answer hits her right in the face.

Zuko's deaf in one ear, totally and completely. She'll just whisper it in that ear when he's distracted.

She waits, tracking his movements behind the counter until he bends underneath it to grab something.

Katara quickly leans over the counter and whispers in the ear just touched by the edges of his scar, "Zuko Dragon, I am going to love you for the rest of my life."

Zuko just about jumps out of his skin, banging his head on the underside of the counter as he turns bright red. Everything he's holding slips out of his hands and in his recoil from the counter, he over-corrects and falls to the ground, splayed out with one hand clutched to the back of his head.

She sits down in shock as he glares up at her and growls, "Now why the hell did you say that?"

"I thought it was the ear you're deaf in."

"What gave you that idea? You never asked!"

"Well you always turn that ear away from people! Always! Of course I assumed that was the ear you're deaf in, who wouldn't?"

He stands up and plants his hands on the counter, and sticks his face into her space, causing her to instinctively lean back. "Well maybe I'm trying to keep people from staring at my scar!"

"Well I'm sorry!" She's fighting back tears just like he's fighting to keep from yelling. "I was going to explode if I didn't tell anyone."

"Well what am I supposed to do with this information?"

Katara stands in a huff, deliberately not thinking about how he came close enough to kiss, and throws her books in her bag, probably with too much force. "Fine then. I'll just… go somewhere else and not bother you."

"Wait," he calls out as she's almost at the door, voice full of strangled emotion, practically about to crack.

Katara looks back.

Zuko is still bright red, and as he rubs the back of his neck he continues, "I mean, please don't leave. You can stay forever if you want. Or like, however long you want to, though we do have to close, I should just stop-"

She drops her books back on the counter right in front of him.


	18. The One without Poets

**A/N: This one's a little shorter, and another high school AU**

 **The One without Poets**

They're sitting together on the hood of his clunker car, parked in the middle of a cornfield.

Well, it's not a cornfield now. It's the middle of winter, so the field is just dirt and dead corn stalks.

Because the two on the car are melodramatic teenagers - that's redundant - they would be tempted to write poetry comparing themselves to those corn stalks.

Luckily, neither of them write poetry.

But the two high school seniors are still sitting on the hood of a beat-up sedan in the middle of someone's cornfield. He parked the car at the top of a hill, so they can still see their high school, the behemoth, nestled in between three other corn fields.

The quality shopping mall is just in sight beyond the school. The popular one is to the east.

If these were poets, they'd write about the cosmic irony is the state's largest high school being located in the middle of the state's largest city, but still in the middle of cornfields.

Her breathing is back to normal, but his heart rate isn't. He's glad they'd been working on their project together during their free period.

He tries not to wince, remembering how her rant turned to stuttering, how her lungs couldn't get enough air - how he hugged her so tight she was forced to breathe with him. How he'd left their things in the hidden library corner and dragged her here.

How pale she looked, even tanned, sitting here next to him under the clear grey sky.

"How'd you know what to do?"

"It worked for my little sister, when she finally broke."

"Oh." She lets silence fall.

The words suddenly leap from him. "She wants Dad's approval so much. But I don't think he knows how to love."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Her voice is clear when she finally speaks again. "My parents aren't awful, they just put so much pressure on my to be perfect, and I double the pressure myself."

Zuko pats her hand awkwardly between them. They sit there for a few more minutes, which stretches to an hour, and then they're still on the hill, watching students pour out of the school.

Her parents will be worried. Her phone has faintly buzzed from inside the car several times. But right now, sitting with Zuko in this slightly chilly weather, Katara can breathe and just be. She's not giving it up that easily.

If these were poets, they would probably tempted to write about lovers, united by tragedy and anxiety.

Luckily, these aren't poets, just students thrown together by the world, remaining together by choice.


	19. The One with Different Cultures Part 2

**A/N: for those that may have missed it, Part Three of "The Bet" is up as its own story. When Part Three of "Cultures" goes up, it will also be in its own story.**

 **The One With Different Cultures; Part Two**

Zuko slides into a seat next to his uncle. The two of them still sit on the edges of gatherings, since they were implants.

Zuko barely remembers his life before the Sun Warriors. Most of what he remembers is a haze of pain and fire, with an underlying current of warm comfort from what he believes is the mother he sees in his dreams.

He has Uncle though, so things aren't so bad.

The elder stands to speak, taking his place at the front of the underground amphitheater, and a hush falls. "Everyone, we are here to discuss a grave report brought in by scouts: an air bison, with passengers, has been sighted flying over our lands."

It's a credit to his control that fervent murmurs don't break out.

"It seems impossible, following Sozin's cruelty, but it is true."

"What are we going to do?" calls one tribe member.

"What we have always done, maintain our secrecy. We will not strike to take down the last of a peaceful race, of course. But I expect everyone to act with extra caution in the coming days."

Zuko starts, wanting to speak, but Uncle's hand on his shoulder stills him. The elder still turns his gaze towards the two, but it is Uncle who speaks.

"We must be grateful then, that even Sozin follows the rules when slaughtering innocents: one always gets away. Yet I question, will we not seek to aid this last survivor of a bygone age?"

The elder's eyes narrow, but he replies with only a slight hint of frustration. "My heart yearns to help this lost creature, however it is the other sighting that calls for caution. An air ship, bearing the marks of the Imperial Fire Nation Navy has flown over our lands, likely in pursuit of the air bison. It is small, clearly only able to carry an elite strike force, yet that in itself bears caution. Members of the Fire Nation, trained by the elite Imperial Forces, are on our lands. Until we are sure they have left, for good, we must act with supreme caution."

Most of the community is dismissed; only the scouts remain to take assignments from their commanders.

Zuko looks after them with longing as he leaves, Uncle's hand on his shoulder the guide leading him out. He knows Zuko wants to join them, but outsiders are not to be trusted.

And for whatever reason, Uncle keeps them within the elder's graces, but still outsiders.

Zuko lets Uncle guide him, padding along and changing pace only when he feels slight pressure on his shoulders. To his surprise, he and his uncle emerge from one of the tunnels.

"Wha-"

"You spoke with them. Who were they?"

"Uncle I don't-"

Uncle's sleeve snaps the air with the force of his dismissing wave. "There is no one here to eavesdrop. Speak freely."

The grave look on Uncle's face, seriousness Zuko cannot remember in all their years here, loosens Zuko's tongue and he tells the whole story; the crazy girl wandering alone, the beast her friends rode in on, an Air Nomad who has to learn firebending, and from him?

It sounds like a spirit tale, but Uncle seems to believe him, and looks strangely relieved.

"They have not yet left the island, but neither have their pursuers. Head due east, and act like hunted prey. You must escape all detection until you find that strange party, and then you must leave. I will follow in my own time."

"Uncle-"

"There is no time for objections-"

"There had better be time for questions then!" He doesn't yell. He manages not to yell, but it's a close thing. "Uncle, you're sending me off against the orders of the elder. I know we're outsiders, but this is folly. At least tell me why."

Uncle looks at him. Really looks. And then sighs wistfully, adding, "it has been a long time since I have had a recruit come to outrank me. When I ran with you, so many years ago, I had friends to help hide us, and I contact them still. The young airbender you met, he is the Avatar. He needs to learn fire, and his options are limited. No one else here will help him. Please, nephew. Go."

Zuko nods, starts to turn, but quickly adds, "Am I hiding from the airship or scouts?"

"Both."

With one more curt nod, Zuko takes off for the east.

* * *

It takes him a day to find them only because he decides to be overcautious and paranoid as he treks east.

An air bison is easy to find, after all.

When he slips out from the cover of trees, Toph is the one to announce his arrival.

"Sparks! Coming in hot!"

The group turns to face him, and both Katara and Aang visibly relax when they recognize him.

"I knew you'd come-"

"Save it. We have to get out. You'll find no help here. The elder is determined to guard our secrets, even if it means abandoning you. There's an imperial airship sighted nearby, so I'm supposed to be in hiding, but Uncle snuck me out. He thinks I should help you, so," Zuko spreads his hands, "here I am."

Toph punches the air as Sokka nods. "You heard the man," the older boy responds. "Pack up before that trio catches up."

Zuko, possession-less, trails after Toph as the others scramble to pack up. With his proximity to her, he is uniquely positioned to see her flinch so when she turns to face the jungle he does as well.

He's there to wrest a ball of fire awry and turn it back on the three girls who emerge from the brush. It dissolves into nothingness with the wave of the leader's hand, who turns cold amber eyes to him. Her eyes narrow like slits as the Avatar's group senses danger and readies to attack.

Then her eyes widen and sudden, unbelievable emotion floods her voice as she takes in Zuko.

"Brother?"

* * *

"Elder, I thank you for your hospitality, but I must depart."

"I have known far less polite guests, and far fewer noble citizens. I do not think I shall miss your meddling ways, Prince Iroh."

The greying prince bows slightly to the elder of the Sun Warriors.

"Will you take your nephew to meet his sister then? I do wonder that you leave just when things seem to have grown difficult."

"On the contrary, it is all the more difficult to leave, to force myself to work for a better future when I could easily end my days peacefully here. If the spirits are kind, the two siblings will not have met. I myself will vanish, and with luck no new strangers will knock on your door."

"Why even come here then?"

Iroh's lips twitched at a grin. "I thought I could help my nephew escape his destiny. But he will not be swayed from greatness, and, kept from it, greatness has come to him."

* * *

"I have no idea who you are, but any fool who carelessly tosses fire right at the beginning of a dry season is no ally of mine."

The resolve of the Avatar's group tightens behind Zuko, and he knows he said the right thing, even as the fearsome girl's eyes narrow, calculating.

"So the rumors of memory loss were true." She shrugs, uncaring. "Well. Then I guess we can finally put to rest the rumors that you're building some army to claim the throne for your own, and I can indulge in being an only child."

Fire lights in her palm and the battle roars to life.


	20. The One with None of Those Simple Joys

**A/N: Inspiration from "Simple Joys" as sung by Patina Miller**

 **The One With None of Those Simple Joys**

"I'll sing you a song, though not very long and I think it as pretty as any! Put your hand in your purse - you'll never be worse - and give a poor singer a penny!"

"Lovely song, indeed," he replies to the tanned singer, who in the height of her confidence has an empty hat thrust upward into his chest. "But no one carries pennies anymore."

Not to be deterred, she quickly repeats the song, substituting "twenty" in for the aforementioned coin.

He laughs, and discreetly checks his watch. He has time. "Alright then, you've got cheek and more bravery than most. I happen to have a twenty on me. Earn it."

She turns her bright blue eyes to her brother, lurking behind her with a guitar, and motions quickly. He grins in response and starts strumming.

The singer grins back at him and starts to sing.

"I'll sing you the story of a sorrowful lad - had everything he wanted, didn't want what he had." She gets familiar with him, all to quickly, flickering her fingers over his watch and suit. He loses some of the words as he's overwhelmed with her scent, but he becomes very aware as she smirks, "His life seemed purposeless and flat. Aren't you glad you don't feel like that?"

He laughs. Zuko Sozin laughs with a pair of buskers as the singer pokes at him with her simple song.

"Sweet summer evenings, hot wine and bread, sharing your supper-" Her eyes rake over him. "-sharing your bed. Simple joys have a simple voice that says 'why not? Go ahead!'"

They've attracted a crowd now, and her confident hat lies on the ground now.

"And wouldn't you, rather be a left-handed flea? A crab on a slab at the bottom of a sea than a man who never learns how to be free? Not 'til he's cold and dead."

She lets her brother play, his fingers flying over the guitar. Zuko, though, watches her, and how she revels in her brother's music and its art, how her eyes are alight with life and her hips sway with the melody. She takes to the chorus again with gusto, adding on to it, and he realizes he's been caught in her snare.

"-Feasting your belly-" She rolls her shoulders back and throws him a winsome glance. "-Feasting your eyes. Simple joys have a simple voice that says 'Time is living's prize!' And wouldn't you-"

She has the crowd in her grasp as she stands, feet planted, and belts, "not 'til the day he dies!"

The applause is instant, and coins are already dropping into the hat when she sings her "penny" song again.

"But singer," he begins, and his strong voice cuts off all other human noise around them. They all look to him - and she meets his gaze with a delighted challenge - as he continues, "no one carries pennies anymore."

She sings again, sass dripping from every fiber of her being and note of the song, until she sings "give the poor singer," at which point he snaps out the promised twenty. She finishes the refrain with victory in her voice, especially as his gesture incites more to give.

As he strides away, Zuko resolves to pass by that same way again, until he can find the courage to ask the lovely brunette her name.


	21. The One with Rosewater and Hellfire

_A/N: Mayyyyyy have introduced too many characters. If a Part 2 and 3 happen I'll know more and will repost this in it's own story pared down_

 **The One with Rosewater and Hellfire**

The first thing Katara learns is the importance of names.

Her family and friends, all divine, call her Katara. It's her pet name, the name that's her and hers.

The mortals though, and any strange divinity, call her Persephone. Called that name, and she is a goddess. It summons up to mind all her powers and might - though truth be told Katara still isn't sure she has all that much.

Of course her parents think so. Her mother, Kya called Demeter, rules the earth. She sings the seasons to life, guards the crops, allows for life to flourish. Her father, Hakoda called Nike, gifts victory to those worthy of it. He's a skilled leader, too. Her brother is the messenger to Olympus and all the gods, to boot. Yes, he's a bit of trickster and may abuse his powers sometimes, but Kya is convinced that Sokka called Hermes will "level out."

Basically, they're all called on regularly by mortals, and Katara just isn't. She does have a dedicated if small group of florists who love it when she creates a new flower or restores a favorite rose bush.

Katara is just biding her time until she can create her own home, not just an add-on to her mother's shrine. Then, she'll be at the feet of Aesculapius for weeks to learn healing. She knows what flowers are good for health already, so Katara is sure it will be an easy appeal to take that under her power.

Hopefully Zeus will be amiable.

* * *

It's been ages since Ozai called Zeus took control of Olympus.

With the help of Demeter and other powerful deities, Zeus destroyed Cronus, once called Azulon, and took the throne himself.

That's when he "rewarded" his five main allies.

Demeter escaped, mostly because she is tied to earth - and though she's a kind mother she's unafraid to destroy the mortals and their food to survive Zeus's wrath.

To his widowed brother who lost his son in the conflict, Iroh called Herah, Zeus gave the dominion of marriage, fidelity, heirs, and empires.

To his ally Pakku called Posiedon, he gave the seas and waters, leaving him practically powerless in the heavenly realm that Zeus took for himself - and the fearsome lightning bolts to go with it.

To his wife, Ursa called Hestia, he gave her dominion over hearth and home, even as she vanished, practically cast out, for mysterious reasons.

And to his son, Zuko called Hades, he gave the Underworld, the care and keeping of the dead and the judgement of their souls, the only gift that outright banishes him from Olympus without saying so.

Zeus curses his son to loneliness, marks him apart from rest of the gods with this scar of death, for the sense of otherworldliness and not-belonging hangs around the Lord of the Underworld.

He does not say that Zuko was meant to be chained there under different circumstances, and that the actions that sent Hestia from Olympus kept Zuko among the living gods.

* * *

Katara does avoid Olympus, mostly at her mother's behest. She knows Kya doesn't want to lose both her children to the wild court.

This doesn't mean she doesn't have any friends.

Toph called Hephaestus, the blind but brilliant metalworker of Olympus with a wicked sense of humor, has become her best friend - once initial prickliness was overcome. Toph regularly brings her new projects when she visits - always the delicate work, never the war creations other gods are fond of. In turn, Katara gives Toph flowers, garlands for her head, neck, and workshop, delicate creations to inspire her in turn.

Sokka often brings his consort around, Suki called Athena. She's a lot wiser than Sokka, even if as young. As both are great strategists, their games of chess or mock battles are highly entertaining and well matched.

Aang called Apollo used to come around a lot as well, bringing a sunny disposition - though not the sun itself - and bright music and poetry. Always quick to a laugh, Katara genuinely liked her friend, but he got rather sullen after overhearing her rebuff Jet called Eris with the declaration she doesn't to take a consort so young.

Katara is sure his wounded heart will heal with time, and then their friendship will be better than ever.

Even with these friends and allies, Katara doesn't mind avoiding Olympus. There's a small trio of goddesses that give her pause.

Ares, the sister Hades and daughter of Zeus, is the trio's leader. She's beautiful, of course, and smiles, but she's a goddess of war and terrifying when angered. Katara gets the sense that most do despise her, for her poorly hidden violent tendencies.

Aphrodite doesn't, though, the sweet, beautiful goddess who is smarter and more limber than she looks. Enyo doesn't either, and the two are Ares's constant companions.

* * *

The days pass the same.

Wake, though he does not really need to sleep.

Eat, though he does not really need to eat.

Judge the dead, though only if his appointed judges cannot come to a decision once the soul has been weighed.

Tend to the horses of the chariot he hardly uses.

Maybe he'll stop by the Styx and chat up Charon, though he usually frightens the new arrivals with his confident play with Cerberus.

(He used to occasionally stop by Olympus, in spite of his father, but he once saw a goddess as lovely as springtime and joyful like a wood nymph. His heart thumped in his chest until he heard the rumors of her protective parents, and how she herself rebuffed all suitors. He only saw her once, anyway, but he never felt such a heart beat again. He doesn't go anymore.)

Eventually night will fall, though in the Underworld there's no real change, only the clocks to tell the time, and the Lord of the Dead will retire to his chambers, alone, to fall into a sleep without rest and without dreams.

Well, perhaps not without _dreams_.

* * *

Katara's always running in her dreams now.

Not in fear, no, in play.

She's always laughing as she runs across as endless field of flowers at the start of her dreams. She's happy and at peace.

She always throws a glance over her shoulder at the figure chasing her, someone with a face she can never remember when she wakes, though he feels safe, familiar like an old friend.

He's dark, and powerful, but in her dreams when she turns and laughs, again, he only grins and chases harder, faster.

Katara wakes up wondering what would happen if he caught her.

* * *

He is going to strangle Morpheus the next time they meet. For his cousin to torment him so, him a ruler of one of the world's spheres.

He has to catch her, just once.

He has to hold onto her smooth hand and behold her laughing face, actually commit those smiling eyes to his memory so should he ever meet her living copy, he can keep her.

He will not be denied.

* * *

Katara wakes one morning and has to walk; has to move and think through the dream she woke from.

He caught her, mostly.

His hand, cool to the touch, slipped around her wrist and he pulled her into his gravity. She tucked herself into his chest with a small thud, and then wiggled until she was comfortable.

With his breath hot on her ear, he murmured, "oh you," and made as if to kiss her.

That's when she woke up, and why Katara's going to walk the whole earth if she has to in order to feel somewhat normal again.

She's strolling through a field somewhere, one that edges off into a cliff, when she spots a dying flower. The land is lush, full of nutrients and water, so there's no reason for it to be wilting. With a huff, Katara starts to sing it back to life.

It only takes a few minutes - the six-petaled flower resists a bit as if it were determined to die. Katara makes a note to return tomorrow.

She sleeps without dreaming that night.

That's exactly what she does, and she finds the white flower near death again. With a little more fire in her voice, she sings the flower back again. It takes less time, so Katara bounces away, full of success.

When she returns the third day, to find the flower almost dead, Katara sits down next to it, lifts the flower up, and sings again.

This time, she sings a song of hope, and the sun, of a life of beauty. She brings the flower back and keeps singing, pouring the springtime of her soul into this flower that it might stand on its own without her. She pours her will and determination that others might dismiss as mere hope into the flower, and when she pulls her hands away, the flower stands on its own with a strength it didn't have yesterday.

Katara hums in happiness, and turns to leave.

A voice, deep and rich but thick with emotion, calls out from the shadows beneath the cliff.

"No, please, keep singing."


	22. The One with Six Shots of Bourbon

**The One with Six Shots of Bourbon**

"Can you believe him? I mean, he just like, yeah."

"Mmm."

"And like, who does that? For like, yeah."

He nods, trying to half drag, half carry her to the car. "I forgot how much you say 'yeah' as a sentence ending when you're wasted."

"I am not wasted!" she retorts, words slurred as she almost looses her balance. "After all, I could still rattle off your number. I am sentichent. And how could you forget that?"

"I haven't gotten drunk with you in a while."

"That's dumb, yeah. I've been going out a lot with my friends - this one was for sympathy and celebration - I'm done with my degrees! Gonna kick names and take ass in the govvvvvtmint." She leans up against the car, head thrown back so the streetlight illuminates the faint sheen of her neck. "Where have you been?"

"Around."

She giggles as he tries to shove her in his car. "Why haven't you been around me tho? Like why?"

"We broke up," he responds, his hands cold as he tucks her limbs and head into his backseat with care.

"Why the duck would we do that?"

He shrugs, starting to close the door. "I don't remember."

"Liar." She's suddenly halfway out the car, practically climbing on top of him as she digs her blue eyes into his. "You remember, yeah. Jog a drunk girl's memory or I'll sober up."

He'd forgotten how fast she could move when she wanted to, not matter her mental condition. He'd forgotten how bourbon whiskey compliments the vanilla and sea of which she always smells.

"One fight too many, I guess. The last one got started over what to eat for dinner. Then you stormed out, I graduated, and two years later here we are."

"I was an immatchure idiot."

"Yes."

"I'm zorry. You deserved better."

He smiles as she shuts her back in the car and gets into the driver seat. "Yeah. But now I know you couldn't forget my phone number."

She makes a non-committal noise, slumped in his backseat, half-asleep before he's turned the key in the ignition. She's fast asleep when he gets her home. Grumbling [happily] to himself, he picks her up and carries her up to her apartment. To his relief, she still keeps her spare key in the same place, so he can get her inside and onto her couch with little difficulty.

He gets her a glass of water, two aspirin from the med kit that is still inconveniently under the kitchen sink, and covers her with a blanket.

As he tucks her in, she hums happily, wiggling a little to settle in.

He's almost out the door when she calls out to him, pitiful like that hungry kitten she took care of for a bit.

"Zuko?"

He turns back.

"Don't forget the goodnight kiss."

His heart in a vise - though kind of happy she won't remember tonight - he crosses back over and presses a kiss to her forehead.

She hums again, flipping over to fall back asleep. "Goodnight. Love you!"

"Good night, Katara. Love you, too."

It's 3 am, and he has work tomorrow, but Zuko sits outside her apartment door and quietly cries, getting home about two hours later.


	23. The One with Different Destinies

**A/N: Part 2 to follow. Thanks to ObeliskX for the prompt!**

 **The One with Different Destinies**

She has his mother's necklace woven through her fingers -

and he is _livid_ a _kid_ got the better of him,  
 _him!_  
the waterbender of the southern water tribe!  
the _only and last_ waterbender  
an _untrained_ waterbender -

She's smiling, but it's not kind. "Don't worry, handsome, I'll save you from the pirates."

She'd be beautiful if she actually smiled, or at least stopped radiating "evil." He's a warrior of the Southern Water Tribe, and he can appreciate the sheer brass of this girl that she can take a fireball to the face but get back up and keep bending, keep fighting.

He wants to like her.

But dammit, she's monologue-ing, and this is the Fire Nation Princess (ex-Princess?) that attacked his home (though admittedly, not in an entirely dickish fashion) and is chasing the Avatar.

So here's Zuko, second son of chief Hakoda, desperately trying to work his way out of some expertly tied knots, while some girl rants away.

Eventually, his brother and Aang show up, and it takes two weeks of watering down Sokka's soup to get him to stop bringing it up.

* * *

"You rise with the moon," she starts, buried in ice up to her throat. Zuko is many things, but he will not kill a beaten enemy. Dawn hits her face and she continues. "I rise with the sun!"

She _explodes_ from the ice, wreathed in fire and _angry_. Zuko realizes he's never seen her truly angry. She's thinner than their first meeting, and seems more on edge. She looks more like a hunted animal but she's fighting with fury as if she were a dragon about to catch desired prey.

Zuko's barely had a week of training with Master Pakku - who much prefers the Southern Tribesman who can actually focus to the flighty nomad - and he's barely keeping up, now.

The Princess has been trained for years by experienced fighters, and how can his dad's scattered training with other weapons even compare to this girl, no, woman who has been raised practically as a living weapon? Sokka's the improvisor. Zuko is the support, the guy who cooks and cleans and backs up other warriors.

It's that moment of doubt, and Zuko hesitates.

Then, her fist is suddenly in his face and everything goes black.

* * *

They have Azula backed into a corner - all of them, the Gaang and the Fire Nation exiles. The latter is a surprise, but from the rumors he's picked up in their travels it's not surprising. Everyone knows Sokka will one day earn the title of Chief, and that Zuko doesn't even want it. He doesn't have to imagine the insanity that would happen if they were forced to compete, because he's looking at it.

Then Azula smirks, lightning flies, and Katara screams.

She screams and screams, holding her uncle as he falls, hit by the lightning, and Azula escapes.

Zuko doesn't think, and by the time he starts to, his hands are already wreathed in water and urging her uncle's shoulder to knit back together. He coaxing life back from the seared flesh, and ever so grateful he stuck it to Pakku and did sit in with Yugoda. (Any one who has dug two fish hooks out of Sokka's thumb would.)

When her uncle feels well enough to let alone, Zuko considers asking them along. There's still room on Appa; Aang does need to learn firebending. After all, wounds like that could use long-term care.

(Also, Sokka learned leadership from their father, but Zuko learned to hunt more. He can see the two former royals have lost even more weight. He can see the circles anxiety and exhaustion have cut into her even more than him. Zuko's heart aches to care.)

But she tells them to fly, to flee, for Azula will be back, with deadly intent.

"What about you," asks Toph, who is Zuko's favorite (other than this brother).

"I've survived fourteen years with Azula, and in worse conditions than this. I think I can manage, since I actually know what I'm dealing with."

Sokka bristles, but Zuko stands and pulls him away, towards Appa.

You can save someone's life, but only if they want to be saved.


	24. The One with Paper Planes

**A/N: This one is super short, but enjoy!**

 **The One with Paper Planes**

Zuko is in the middle of a Very Important Assignment when a paper airplane sails over the cubical wall to land on his keyboard. It came from the one in front of him, and it's sloppily folded. No wonder it didn't get very far. He can hear furtive and nervous whispering, so he unfolds the airplane.

It reads, in lovely cursive, "whazzzzzzzzzzzup bitchezzzzzzzz?"

Zuko's brow furrows as he considers this very informal office memo.

A pair of blue eyes suddenly pop over the wall, and Zuko can just barely see the hint of the woman's nose. "Oh. Hi new guy. Sorry, that wasn't meant for you. Um, can I have that back?"

A small smile tugs at his lips as he raises an eyebrow in reply. Without replying, Zuko looks away from the lady and sets about refolding the airplane. He stands up to hand it back, and he is now treated to her full visage, bright cheeks and full lips.

"Here, strange lady. This should fly better. If I may ask, who is it for?"

She jerks her head to the right to see his cubicle neighbor utterly absorbed in his work, headphones on tight. "My brother," she mouths. "Watch, and duck once it hits," she continues in a whisper.

Her soft hand takes the paper plane from him, and launches the airplane. It flies true and strikes her brother in the back of the head.

The man jumps about two feet in the air, but the woman has already dropped down into her chair, so Zuko follows suit, trying to pretend he's focused on his work but his ears are straining to hear the commotion, listening to her brother sputter and from the sounds of things fall over.

He's laughing quietly, when another poorly folded plane lands on his floor.

 _Hi,_ she wrote. _I'm Katara._

He plucks up a pen to reply, grinning.


	25. The One with Cheap Food

**The One with Cheap Food**

"That's it."

Zuko slams the cheap orange tray down in front of Katara, who - previously absorbed in her book - jumps about a foot in the air.

"I know I'm an employee of this place, but it is not good for you to be eating this everyday. Pick a night, any night, and you stick around until close and I'm going to make a real dinner for you. And then you're going to take the leftovers home."

"I-"

"Tonight works? Good."

Katara watches him in shock as he stalks away. He turns back over his shoulder to add, "I have _War and Peace_ in my car if you finish your book."

* * *

He _hands her his keys_ when she inevitably finishes _Jane Two_ before his shift ends.

Baffled to the depths of her soul, Katara unlocks an aging four-seater and pulls of a worn copy of Tolstoy's work. The paperback has been slightly blanched by the sun, the pages yellowed, and the cover curls at the corners. There's an impressive collection of bookmarks - an expired CPR certification, a program for a music revue, a scrap piece covered by the same image with slightly differing designs - that's about halfway through the book.

She slips back inside the popular Chinese takeout place, returns Zuko's keys, and starts _War and Peace_ for herself, choosing a miniature cross-stitch pattern (!) as her bookmark.

She's slogging her way through the book, maybe a third of the way through, when he pokes her foot with the handle of a mop.

"You got a car?"

"Yes-"

"Good. Mind sitting on your hood while I finish cleaning?"

Katara realizes she's the only one in the restaurant. Desperately hoping her tan hides her blush, she nods and darts out the door.

There, standing at her car, Katara considers leaving. She almost does, pulling her keys out of her pocket, before realizing she'd be stealing his book. In addition, it looks like it's gonna rain so she can't leave the book on his hood, since who knows if he'll get out in time to rescue it, and she can't ruin such a well-loved copy.

She leans against her car, debating following a stranger to his house or ruining a book until the lights in the restaurant close and Zuko emerges.

"Follow me to my house?"

"Sure."

* * *

Halfway to his house, Zuko freaks out.

 _What the hell am I doing? I'm leading a girl to my apartment! She's a stranger. Well not really she's a regular who's always reading - what does she do that lets her have this much free time? Who reads in Chinese takeout places during their free time? - but it's not like they're friends._

 _Agni, he steamrolled right over her. He is the biggest jerk to ever exist. He should just die of shame-_

 _No. That's an intrusive thought and an overcompensation. I'll just get out of the car and apologize._

Then, a few seconds after his heartbeat slowed, it raced to life again with the realization he couldn't decide which situation was worse: Uncle home or Uncle working late at the Jasmine Dragon.

Zuko pulls into his tiny drive, thanking his lucky stars there is room on the street for her to park. He opens his door and opens his mouth to apologize.

Katara screams, and Zuko immediately snaps towards her, leaping over the garbage bins in his haste to get to her-

Only to find her cooing over the alley cat.

"Aren't you the handsomest fellow."

"We all call her Jasmine."

Katara continues to coo unashamed. "Yes, just the loveliest little lady here. Bet you terrorize all the vermin."

Zuko snorts as he unlocks the front door. "We all feed her too well for that." He leaves it open behind him; Katara can come in when she's ready, and it's not as if Jasmine hasn't made herself at home before either.

He automatically starts rice on the stove, before opening the fridge and seeing the rice Uncle left in a Tupperware (with a smiley face on a post it note). Welp. Lunch tomorrow then.

The vegetables and spices are marshaled on the counter when he's startled by, "you make rice on the stove?"

"It's habit from before we had the rice cooker. Uncle got over it faster."

She just nods. "Do you need any help cooking?"

At least, he thinks that's what she said. He's already tuning everything out but the food. He waves her off, and starts mixing spices.

* * *

He's gone, though he's still standing in the kitchen. Katara shifts uncomfortably on her feet, before fishing _War and Peace_ out of her purse, curling up on the couch, and digging in to read.

She's passed his bookmarks and embroiled in the complexities of Russian/French war when she hears him call her name.

He's got two plates set out on the kitchen table, and he's inviting her to serve herself. He doesn't touch anything until she has scooped herself a small helping of rice and what looks and smells like peanut curry.

She's not really all that hungry, but Katara is a good future grad student and so will never pass up free food.

Zuko digs in, however, and it only takes a few minutes of stilted conversation for the truth to come out.

"I never eat at the restaurant. It's decent food, but it's nothing like mine."

Katara smirks around a forkful of curry. It's good food. She's happy to admit she wants more, just later when she's actually hungry.

Right. He promised leftovers.

The conversation is still a little awkward, so she ventures a topic.

"So. _War and Peace_ is a bit of a struggle to get through. What do I have to look forward to in the later chapters?"

"Oh, I have no idea. I haven't finished it. You know where my bookmarks are."

"But… the book is so worn."

He nods. "Yeah, I've been working on it for about three years now. It's the book I keep in my car for when traffic comes to a standstill, or unexpected wait-times at the dentist."

"I-"

"Are you offended?"

"Just shocked."

"Books aren't sacred to you, are they?"

"No, it's just- three years? How do you remember the storylines for that long? Seriously?"

Zuko shrugs in-between mouthfuls of rice. "Never had a problem with it. I was the obnoxious kid who checked forty books out of the library - the very limit- and then turned half of them in before the due date, renewing the others."

Katara stares in amazement as he polishes off his plate, goes back for seconds, but doesn't return to the table until he's put the leftovers in reusable takeaway boxes for her. "Told you you're not leaving without a lot of food."

She takes another bite - despite her stomach's growing protests - to keep her mouth from blurting, "can you just cook for me for the rest of my life?"

Instead, she asks if she can read a little more. She won't finish the brick-sized classic in one day, but his couch is comfortable and it means a little more relaxation and time with him.

He joins her, a respectable distance between them on the couch, with a copy of some other giant book. He reveals it's something of an art mystery novel, Elizabeth Kostova's _The Swan Thieves_ when she asks. He opens it to some point halfway through.

That bookmark is a simple receipt, if faded from obvious reuse for this purpose.

She's relaxing, intending to ask to do this again, when the front door starts to open. Zuko's head snaps up from his book, eyes wide with fear, but not fear for his life, more like anticipation of embarrassment.

"Nephew! You will never believe what happened tonight at the- oh hello. Who is this lovely flower you've brought home, and why did I not know of her existence before? How could you spring this on me?" The older, more portly man drops a few bags on the kitchen table. "Hello, I am Iroh, Zuko's uncle. I imagine he's told you awful stories about me."

Katara, who knew Zuko's name and nothing else before tonight, smiles widely, replying, "only the best things. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Iroh smiles, before returning to the kitchen. "I absolutely must make you a cup of tea. It's only right that I make the best pot of jasmine I have ever made when my nephew finally brings a girlfriend home."

Behind his back, both Katara and Zuko silently choke. "Love is in the air, so it's no wonder my tea has been particularly perfect the last few days." He turns back to the two, taking in Katara serenely smiling while Zuko turns redder. "The secret ingredient is love."


	26. The One With(Out) Groceries

**The One With(Out) Groceries**

"Jet, take the register."

"What?"

"I said take over for me."

"You're not the boss of me."

Zuko shot his coworker a glare. "Look. Our boss is counting up the other tills, and I have his keys. I'm de facto in charge. If you want to argue, we can discuss Ancient History the rest of the night."

Jet clams up and leans up against the counter in an act simultaneously compliant and defiant.

He's a decent coworker, but honestly, there are other people Zuko would rather work the overnight shift with, but that's life.

With that taken care of, Zuko makes his way to the produce section, where a girl has been standing, quietly considering mangoes for the past ten minutes. Her basket has a few scattered items in it - standard midnight cravings run - and her face has a helpless look as she considers the fruit.

"Ma'am," Zuko begins and she jumps five inches out of her skin. He doesn't bat an eyelash. "Ma'am, are you okay?"

She turns and looks at him with exhausted blue eyes, dark circles underneath them, and bursts into tears.

"Ma'am!" Zuko reaches forward and puts his hands on her shoulders, throwing a panicked glance at Jet - who looks just as shocked and is backing away - as he murmurs, "It's okay; it's okay. Please stop crying. What's wrong?"

He pulls her off to the side as she's crying, trying to get her to the chairs in the seating by the buffet.

"I don't know what to do!"

"Um-"

"I can't choose between mango and papaya."

He has an Iroh Moment, and realizes whatever this is, it's about so much more than her inability to choose between fruit.

"Well," he begins, gently drawing her into a chair and sitting across from her - _his hands trail from her shoulders to cup her hands, tracing circles in her palms with his thumbs_ \- "You have to weigh the pros and cons, decide which will cost you more than you're willing to pay." His lips twist in displeasure. "Sometimes you just have to take the option you'll regret the least."

Her eyes blink as she gazes at him, and as they sit there Zuko watches wakefulness creep into her eyes. She's not crying anymore, but her eyes do widen, and then she ducks her head and murmurs, "Thank you. I should probably go home and sleep, especially if I'm crying about fruit."

"Do you want me to ring you up?"

"No, no thank you. I also couldn't pick between instant noodle flavors so I grabbed more than I should have purchased."

It takes half a second for Zuko to decide on the course of action and another half second for his inner voice that sounded _just_ like Uncle to stop crowing with victory and pride.

"Here," he stands and tugs gently at her hands to bring her to her feet. "Get one of each, and I'm going to buy you some tea."

"What, no, I can't let you-"

"Excuse me, ma'am, are you arguing with your greengrocer at twelve thirty am?"

It's such an absurd sentence that she freezes, face clearly torn between confusion and laughter. Zuko takes that moment to seize her basket and march towards the register. He snags a bottle of tea from the cooler by the register, one of those relaxing ones.

(Jet goes skittering away, grabbing the mop as he escapes.)

The girl starts, and then dashes after him. He can hear her cheap flats slapping the tile.

"Hey, wait!"

He slips behind the counter - where she can't go - and smirks, pulling out two packets of instant noodles from her basket. "Get me a papaya and a mango."

She huffs, but bends under his stare and fetches the fruit.

When she returns, he buys her small amount of groceries, bagging everything but the tea. He presents her with the goods - pocketing the receipt - and a smile. "Don't open the tea until you get home. I don't want you falling asleep at the wheel, or on public transit."

She rolls her eyes, and Zuko chalks it up to her being overwhelmed.

"Thank you, truly. I'm just-"

"Go sleep," Zuko cuts her off, as gently as possible. "You'll feel better."

She smiles at him as she leaves, looking back at him before she leaves. Zuko's grinning ear to ear the rest of his shift - which scares Jet, honestly - and goes to bed happy.

To his surprise, she returns to the store the next night, wearing a grin and mischievous glint in her eye.

"Tell me, when do you get off work?"


	27. The One with Weddings

**The One with Weddings**

The planner coughs again, and the couple breaks apart with a start.

Honestly, right now the planner is her hero. He's fair, no nonsense, and it's exactly what this couple needs because, honestly, Katara isn't sure she could handle all this nonsense sober.

"As I was saying," he continues, lowering the clipboard shield, "you need to decide when you want to have the group pictures. It will be much more difficult to corral everyone at the reception, but you've already expressed that you don't want a lot of pictures at the ceremony itself."

The bride launches into a rant about some awful experience at a previous wedding she attended with an intrusive photographer.

Katara tunes her out, briefly entertained by watching the groom pretend to be interested. Her attention is more captured by the wedding planner, a Mr. Lee, who actually is paying attention. His eyes are fixed on the bride with cool professionalism as he scribbles a bit of shorthand. He calculating while listening, and nothing could be more attractive than a man who can hang on to threads of conversation, pull together a response, all while listening to and factoring in the continued rant.

Heh. Maybe this will be the wedding that gets Katara married. A girl can dream.

He shuts the bride down gently, when she's done, by flattering both the bride and Katara in subtle ways, and then suddenly he's asking for her to chime in, and staring at her like she has three heads.

She flounders for half a second before bursting forth with assurances that she is a discreet artist, confident in her abilities to herd family members so the pictures can be taken post-ceremony without bordering on reception time. Katara produces a her own list with a flourish, detailing the family and wedding party pictures she suggests.

The rates she has prepared on another sheet. This bride will probably create her own package.

The planner's lips twitch as he glances over the form.

He's on to her, and Katara has never been more excited to be found out.

So when the bride has made her decisions - at least for now - and has resumed macking her groom while the wedding planner and photographer pack up, Katara brushes against his shoulder. She's casual, but very intentional.

He shoots her a startled glance quickly covered up by a raised eyebrow.

Away from the show and casually approaching their cars, she offers to buy him a drink.

Smiling, Mr. Lee - "Call me, Zuko. We are about to be each other's only allies after all." - accepts.

By the time the wedding and the reception roll around - and the open bar! - Katara has moved in into his apartment, onto his business cards as the preferred photographer, and they've started planning their own wedding.

(That wedding ends up the party of the year.)


	28. The One Among Stars

_A/N: Challenge from FFN user t-rex989_

 _ **The One Among Stars**  
_

Her heart beats.

Sweat beads on her forehead.

They're little things, but because of them she knows she's alive. Her saber hangs at her side, waiting, as she is.

She takes a breath.

Her brother is at her back, his blaster already drawn.

They said she was the only one Force-sensitive, but sometimes, when Sokka lands a shot, she laughs at those stuffy men in their towers for their blindness. Well, she would if the men were still alive and those towers still stood.

Sure, Katara can move things in ways Sokka never could.

It took her years of training - most in secret - to throw anything with his kind of accuracy. The same with blasters.

They're both stellar pilots, though.

She laughs at her own joke even as something more primal than instinct urges her to _move_ , and she does. Her scattered tribe follow after her, moving hiding place by hiding place.

The crunch of Imperial boots echo through what was their shelter.

Katara's Water Tribe, from an ice planet, and is used to living on the edge. Things don't last, not even homes. She remembers the old stories, when the tribes were bigger and fought each other, how when you couldn't stay and face down the enemy you would tear down your own home rather than give them that advantage.

A soldier passes in front of her, tucked into a small alcove, and she sucks in breath silently, but he's already moved on.

It's harder for the others, as they're used to sheltering walls staying put, being sacred.

How funny that she can relate more with the Imperials, the old Fire Nation, in this moment. They know to discard something when it's outlived it's usefulness, used to their land itself turning to fire regularly to cleanse itself.

Only, now the people need a cleansing fire.

Rumor has it that their Emperor is a Sith. Everyone is pretty sure his daughter is.

It makes perfect sense. Why else would they be hunting down Jedi. Sure, things got twisted, but the Empire destroyed everything of the Order not just the rotten parts.

Well, everything they could get their hands on.

Another breath, and she centers herself before moving again, this time following Toph as the younger girl silently moves the metal door aside and the group rushes into the secret passage.

The blind Jedi leads the way, her feet sure as the metal bends to her will to keep their steps silent.

Sokka and Suki, the non-Jedi, take up the rear so that Aang is cushioned in the middle of their little line. All the prophecies that swirl around him as the one to bring balance back have painted a giant target on his back. It luck and his master's sacrifice that kept him from their clutches.

He was so close to fully trained, and then they could plot properly. What was left of the Air Nomads (very, very little), the Water Tribes, and the Earth Kingdom were ready.

Toph twists the end of the corridor open, and the five race across the quiet hangar to their ship.

Wait, five.

A shadow darts out from the wall to their right, from a different passage, and Katara reaches for her saber to bring all her fury down on his head, but he moves to run with them, and she can't stop the relieved smile that breaks out over her face.

Zuko is safe, too.

The hangar doors open at Toph's command as everyone hurries into the ship Aang affectionately calls Appa since he can't remember the actual make and model.

He, Sokka, and Suki settle into the cockpit. They have the coordinates for the next safe house the Rebellion set up. Toph is probably already in the ship kitchen, fighting the droid Momo for access to the snacks.

Perfect.

Katara can take hold of her shadow and pull him towards the living quarters.

"How did it go?"

"Good. Their comms system is disabled, and whatever Toph did to their engines is holding. We can finally make an easy getaway."

"And your sister?"

He sighs, falling into a couch. Katara immediately sits next to him, one hand rubbing circles into his shoulders. "She's still following Dad's orders. I didn't have a chance to engage with her privately, but I know that look on her face."

"We won't have to kill her."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Katara breathes more than says, leaning her forehead on Zuko's. "We are well-trained and can improvise in the field. Should we be forced to face her, I know we'll think of a way."

Zuko leans forward and kisses her, soft and short. "I am so glad I have you."

"Mmmm," she replies, a hand cording in his hair. "Sounds about right."

Laughing, he returned to kissing her, advancing until she was lying out on the couch, smiling up at him.

"Ugh. Get a room."

"Oh, like you can see, Toph."

"I got ears, don't I, Sugarqueen?"

"Aang! Your mis-wired droid monkey is eating my fire flakes!"

"Oh no. It's not like they're the favorite treat of the occupying force of most of the galaxy."

"You know what, maybe I'll take you back to your parents to pay for my habit."

"Zuko! You wouldn't dare!"

"Best you find this out about me now, Katara, but my spices are not to be trifled with. Now to just-"

And Zuko, the turn-coat son of the Emperor, launched himself from the arms of his girlfriend after a robot monkey holding a bag of spicy potato flakes.

It did not end well, but at least there was still time to laugh after everything that had happened.


	29. The One with Rosewater Part 2

**Rosewater and Hellfire Part 2**

"Who are you?"

"I am...a lover of music."

She laughs like spring, and he feels his heart beat again. "But who are you? I can't see your face."

"I do not want to scare you."

She had tried to peer over the cliff to look down at him, but he had faded into the shadows. This was one of the entrances to the Underworld, so much like on Olympus itself the shadows obeyed his commands. She saw naught a trace of him, but that only heightened her curiosity. Now she sat at the edge of the cliff, next to the asphodel she sang back to life, and dangled her feet over the edge as if into a pleasant lake.

"You are not a mortal, then," she muses. "Are you a monster, that would seek to harm me?"

"No, no I am divine like you."

Her exclamation of delight startles him. "Then you most certainly won't hurt me, and you can show yourself. Please."

"After another song?"

"You drive a hard bargain. But fine, I'll sing."

She sings of the seasons, their beauty and camaraderie, the joy in each one matching the joy in her voice. As she weaves magic in the air with her song, he sighs, letting himself fade from the shadows until he is clearly a dark shape leaning against the rocks.

* * *

Katara is, of course, leaning over the edge as she sings. She is a cheat when it suits her, and here there's no real loser. Plus, it means the voice can hear her better.

She knew he wouldn't hurt her. The emotion in his voice thickened his first plea, but with more conversation she was sure she recognized the voice. This is the man who has happily hunted her through her dreams. She does not let victory seep into her voice when she finally sees his face.

He is pale, she can tell that much even with shadows over half his face. He looks tall, even looking down, with broad shoulders and a pointed chin. She likes his face.

He looks up, and she's caught, the song halting suddenly.

His eyes are gold, darkened by shadows and what is quite possibly desire. His eyes are gold with a fierce intensity that matches his strong jaw. His hair is dark, almost fading into the shadows, and the almost-scruffy cut softens the transition from his pale face to the dark wall.

Katara really likes his face.

"Hello."

He swallows, as if he's terrified of her, a springtime goddess. He's sweet.

* * *

It's her.

Her brown hair hangs down as she looks at him, and he knows in his dreams he's pressed his face into those locks and breathed in the scent drifting towards him now. Her eyes are bluer than he thought possible, innocent in their mischief. His hands twitch to cup her face in his so he can memorize every line, but he stays where he is, glued to the world beneath her adorable feet.

"Hello," he replies, and his heart keeps beating.

* * *

Katara still dreams of running, but now rather fancies getting caught - kisses to her neck, sweet nothings whispered in her ear.

It's more chaste than she expected her whirlwind secret affair to be.

She still doesn't know which god he is, though it would be easy to figure out. Instead, she'll wait for him to reveal it. He probably thinks she's more important than he is, and will be disappointed when she learns his name. That couldn't be possible, but she can't find a diplomatic way to say it, so she lets him steer the conversations. They discuss flowers at length, him providing ideas for her to try - new colors, new blossoms - while she instructs him in the care of asphodel, his favorite.

It never occurs to Katara to share this with someone. They can't punish her, since they meet in their dreams, mostly, and it's harmless anyway.

This is why when she dances home after one of their rare meetings by the cliff-side, she's surprised Kya is instinctively horrified to see her daughter.

Katara had wanted him to plait her hair, to join her on the upper part of the cliff and weave his flowers into her tresses. She wants to see his whole face in sunlight at once, not just halves - one obscured by shadows or her own hair.

He chuckled. "Alright, then, settle and I'll join you."

She sat cross-legged facing the cliff so he couldn't climb up and sneak, only for his presence to suddenly loom behind her.

"You used my shadow! Cheater."

"I'm just protecting your innocence," he replied lightly, fingers in her hair.

"Yes, because when I see you face I will be so overcome with ecstasy that there will be no possible way to call me a maiden any longer."

His hands stilled briefly before they began again in earnest. She thought he murmured, "not that kind of innocence." But he finished the braid, happily, weaving in more flowers with every twist of his hands. He pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck, and she twisted around to press a kiss to his lips, eyes shut tight. Her hands drift to cup his face but he stills them on his neck.

So when Kya plucks a flower from behind Katara's ear, asking "where did you get these," the young goddess tamps down a blush and replies, "at the edge of a cliff. They're really beautiful, aren't they? I just had to wear them."

"Don't go back there, it's not safe. And take those flowers out quickly. Zeus has agreed to hear your petition, and he hates asphodel."

Arranging the blossoms on her vanity, Katara muses over the fact that her mother knew the name of a flower Katara had never seen before.

She puts those thoughts from her mind and twists her hair into a conservative bun, dressing in garments best suited for healing. She looks professional, serious, when she stands in Olympus for the first time in a long time, and before the throne. Zeus's smile is predatory, a shark running a school of fish to borrow Poseidon's griping to her mother.

"And why do you wish to take on herbal medicines in addition to your current duties?"

"Because, my lord Zeus, I will never turn my back on people who need me. Giving Aesculapius more freedom to develop more complex solutions for more complex problems will bring better good into the world. In addition, my skills in developing new flowers easily lends itself to the creation and cultivation of more herbal cures. I know the mortals will be grateful for their improved health as well as your wisdom in delegation of divine duties."

Zeus's smile grows. "Then I see no reason why you shouldn't develop those very skills. I will set aside a space here on Olympus for your training. I look forward to seeing how you grow." He raises an eyebrow. "Will you need traditional space for a consort in your living quarters?"

Katara tries not to be shocked at the assumption she will live on Olympus for her training, and wonders how her mother will react. She calmly replies, "I will not, but thank you for the offer." A warning bell inside her begins to chime when a satisfied look crosses his face. "I will inform my mother of your decision then."

"Do."

Kya is not pleased. She immediately sends a lesser nymph to clean out her permanent rooms on Olympus. "I will not leave you alone here, not when your friends' duties carry them away from you frequently."

Katara is glad of it. When she's not speaking with her mentor or mother, or catching up with friends, when she's alone, she feels watched. Her dreams are different now. She no longer seems able to reach her nameless lover. Instead, she's running again, but running in fear. She is hunted, and whatever is chasing her grows more excited as she eludes him, as her fear grows and as the chase continues.

She wakes up wanting to cry out for the man who loves asphodel, but without his name she just wakes breathless.

Herah begins to spend time with her as well, ostensibly to talk varieties of tea but she quickly learns he, too, is trying to keep the malicious shadow from her. She mentions going to Zeus about it, but Herah shakes his old head. "He is Lord of the Skies, of thunder and lightning. He can do nothing about shadows."

She questions that, but not enough to go against Zeus's elder brother. The factions and battle lines left over from the war against the Titans are still clear, it seems.

She doesn't think Olympus will ever be free of them.

She starts to believe she'll escape unharmed, until her training is almost finished and Suki wakes her up in the middle of the night.

"Hey, psst. We're going on a quick adventure. For old time's sake."

"Where?"

"You'll see. It's a surprise."

"Okay, let me tell my mom-"

"No time. The secret will expire if we don't go now. Besides, if everything goes right, we'll be back before she notices you're gone."

Because she trusts Suki, Katara rises and follows the clever goddess of war - follows her to Hell.


	30. The One With(out) a Super-villain

_A/N: Inspired by a sweet anon on Tumblr._

* * *

 **The One With(out) a Super-Villain**

"Let me go!"

The words were a tad slurred and without any force. Did she fling a couple punches at him? Bat at his face like a stunningly inebriated cat? Yes. Would she probably have destroyed the face of anyone else? Also yes. Didn't stop him from cradling her like the most precious of puppies and carting her off, on the ground and safe. He smirked as she continued to protest, words she had snapped at his civilian self ages ago floated to the forefront of his mind. "Not a chance, Painted Lady. I have a duty of care."

"Asshole, you're a super-villain." She giggled. "My super-villain."

She tried to wiggle away again - lady was water, appropriately enough, as she tried to sink out of his hold - so he tossed her a little to adjust and tighten his grip. Her one arm tightened around his neck while the other clutched at her hat - as if they both didn't know that was more secure than the bank vaults. Still, the bit of air she got made her veil flutter, and he could catch glimpses of her delicately painted cheeks.

Too bad her eyes were a bit dulled by drink rather than alight with battle fury or passion or care.

"I don't give a shit if I'm a super-villain, I can and will arrest you for flying while drunk; maybe I can't put you in jail, but I will absolutely tie you up in my lair until you sober up."

Her laugh was the darkest, saddest thing he'd ever heard from her lips. "It's the anniversary of the worst day of my life. Drinking numbs the pain and since flying clears my mind, I'd like to ask you from the bottom of my heart to fuck right off."

"My Lady," he began, unsure, and in that moment of weakness she wiggled free, stumbling towards a wall.

"You," she said with a wild point in his general direction. "You should take your inexplicable _care,_ and your warm body, and your fantastic arms-" She trailed off, briefly losing her train of thought. She caught it again, signaled by another wild wave of her pointing hand. "Take all that and just fuck off back to your secret lair and leave me and my best friend Jack Daniels alone."

He kicked opened the door next to her. "But won't you come in and join me in said lair?"

She blinked, stunned. "Holy shit. This is your lair."

"I never knew the greatest waterbender of our age had such a mouth," he replied, steering her into the door and to a couch. He tried to leave her to get water, but she pulled him down next to her. Certainly not what he'd had in mind the numerous times he'd imagined joining the Painted Lady on a couch. Plus, he'd always imagined it in his apartment which had a couch much nicer with no coffee stains.

"Do you actually live here? I've never seen this part."

He flushed as she threw an arm over his shoulder, pulling him closer to her. "That's because this is where I patch myself up so I don't get blood in my apartment. When I finally leave, I want my security deposit back."

"Another reason to bring me here. If I throw up, it's in a more run down place."

"Why do you assume my place is better than this?"

"You always have funds for those crazy schemes. Makes since you'd have a better place to crawl back to when I'm done kicking your ass." She took a breath, face twisting briefly, then continued, " you do know all those schemes end up helping people, right? After we strip away your over-dramatic doom names and brighten the colors, they better people's lives."

"I know."

"Oh my god!" She twisted suddenly, hands on his shoulders pushing him into the couch as she came to straddle him, staring down into his theatrical mask. "Are you a super-villain trying to do good?" The rice whiskey on her breath was nearly strong enough to intoxicate on its own, or perhaps that was the nearness of her. "Why don't you? Just add a bit of color to your costume, take off that scary mask and-"

Before he could react her fingers were curled around the fanged mask and then it was on the floor. She pouted, her whole weight resting on his thighs, when the unveiling just revealed black cloth over his face. Only his amber eyes started out of the black, the eyes surrounded by black makeup he was very careful applying each time he left as the Blue Spirit.

He gestured to those same eyes that let the world knew he bent fire. "I'm Fire Nation, aren't I? No one would let me close enough to help. Super-villain is what they expect, so villain I will be."

"Still, the black mask underneath is a bit much."

"The Avatar and the Blind Bandit have knocked it off before; you're just too polite. I am... very recognizable. We've even met when I was out of costume."

"Oh. Well how am I supposed to kiss you?"

His brain misfired, and he may have missed a heartbeat or two. "I'm sorry, what? Did you just, I, what?"

"That's what's supposed to happen right? The drunk, hurt heroine is comforted by the anti-hero-" Her fingers bunched the fabric around his shoulders. "-confessions are shared, they kiss-"

His hands found her waist, and with a quick abuse of physics he tossed her to the couch and disentangled himself, making a beeline for the small kitchenette. "Like you said, Painted Lady, you are drunk. I, just, you, I don't want," he broke off unsure as the faucet stuttered to life.

"You don't want me?"

"No!" He almost broke the glass in his hand with the strength of his emphatic cry. "No, I, I do, just-" She looked at him from underneath the brim of her hat, and there was a confused hurt he ached to wipe away. "You'll regret it if you kiss me now, and despite being your sworn enemy I couldn't bear to add a regret to your life. You look much better when you hate me then when you're sad."

He handed her the glass of water from a full arm's length away and retreated when she took it with a grateful "thank you." She had two glasses before he was satisfied.

"Don't leave?" she asked as he bent for his mask. Her face was so hopeful and voice so plaintive that he sighed.

 _I am so fucked._ "Sure." He tucked her in with one of the less ratty blankets. He tried to make for the recliner, but she scooted enough to give him room to sit, looking at him until the guilt became too much. He sat down in the curve of her waist, resting a hand on her shoulder. "It's a valiant effort, my lady, but I won't fit."

"I don't want to be alone."

"You're not."

"It's the first anniversary of my mom's death that I don't have my dad or brother around. They're traveling for work, so yeah, I kinda am alone." She paused. Breathed. "Sorry, that came out bitchier than I expected. It's just easier for them. They didn't see the guy's face. They didn't watch her die."

He remembers a minion slinking into his father's office, announcing the death of the last Southern Waterbender. He remembers his face when the Painted Lady appeared, and every one knows the Northern benders wouldn't deign or dare to play on Sozin turf.

He squeezed her shoulder. "I am so sorry."

"She died because of me. He was after the last waterbender in the South, and she said it was her. She calmly told me to get Dad; he repeated her, mocking, and put a fist of fire in her face." A sob wracked her body. He pulls her close, wrapping her in his arms as if he can make the pain go away. "I will find him, one day, and I will face him. I will make sure he's sorry."

The brim of her hat pressed into his good cheek as his hands pressed into her back. "I know you will. He will know the weight of what he did."

He murmured platitudes into her ear and rubbed circles into her back until the sobs abated and her muscles relaxed. He gently laid her back down, humming one of his uncle's lullabies, and was satisfied to see her drifting to sleep, hands adjusting her hat just so.

He stretched out on the recliner, even as she made soft noises of complaint as he left her side. While he left his black mask on, he went ahead and removed his boots and gloves. It wouldn't be the first time he'd slept in his gear, and probably not the last. With that depressing thought, he closed his eyes and drifted off.

* * *

Katara woke in the middle of the night disoriented and confused. Her head was spinning, and her room was so grey - no, not her room, part of the Blue Spirit's lair. She sat up as the memories roared back to her, fumbling for the glass of water he'd no doubt refilled for her. She glanced at the recliner, where he lay curled up tight, back pressed to a seat so the minimum of vulnerability was exposed.

Head and heart ached as she stood and tottered over to him. He still had the mask on, and with the paint he applied even to his eyelids it was hard to make out the proportions of his face in the dark. His hands, though, were free, and curled into fists to match the rest of him. She ran a finger along the hand on top and made a hungover wish to touch more of his skin one day.

Carefully, she guessed at his temple and pressed a kiss there. Ridged skin pressed back under the cloth.

"I'm very recognizable," he'd said, and she'd assumed he was someone famous. She thought of the numerous people with facial scars she'd seen, and wondered who could be so brave as to don a mask, convince people to hate him, all in the name of bettering their lives.

"Whoever you are," she whispered in the night, the moon high. "I think I could love you."

Moonlight sped her home.

And if she spent a little less time on revenge and a little more on ways to bring the Blue Spirit to her side, that was no one's business but hers.


End file.
